


The Wrong Planet

by Jrynkows



Category: South Park
Genre: Asperger Syndrome, Friendship/Love, M/M, Romance, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6269851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrynkows/pseuds/Jrynkows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU-When Craig Tucker was three years old, he was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, a mental disability which turns his life upside down. He was told he would have a hard time making friends and falling in love, but he had always had a fixation on a particular boy named Tweek. It's just up to him to make sure his disability doesn't stop him from falling in love with him....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy in the Office

**Author's Note:**

> Um, this is my first multichaptered fanfiction posted to here and I wanted to make a few clarifications right off the bat  
> -Craig having Asperger's Syndrome is a HEADCANON. If you don't believe in it or not, then that's fine, but I do want you to be respectful. Same deal with the headcanon of Craig being adopted.  
> -I happen to have Asperger's myself so much of this draws from my own personal experiences. If you want to call out on my shit and say that I'm not being very accurate, just remember that despite being autistic myself, I am not 100% knowledgeable on the condition. I'm doing my best based on my own experiences and extensive research over the years.  
> -Craig's Asperger's also happens to be a different kind of mine (I also happen to be female and I'm not the best at writing about guys) so hopefully he won't come off too ooc  
> -This fic will not be referencing Tweek vs Craig or TweekXCraig (I'm sorry too, it's one of my favorite episodes) I wanted a better build up for them falling in love so it will be as though they didn't happen (Think of it as an AU of sorts)
> 
> Whew that was long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Mrs. Tucker didn’t know what she was going to do with her three year old son, Craig Tucker. He was on target with some things for kids his age, such as walking and eating solid foods and getting things for himself, but there seemed to be difficulties with him in every other way.

Craig would cover his ears and scream bloody murder whenever a lawnmower started going outside. He stiffened up when his mother tried to hug him. He refused to look his father in the eye when he asked how his “little man” was doing. He had an aversion to clothing and would often strip and run around naked, crying when his mother would chase after him with his discarded clothing and make him get dressed again.  
He could talk, but his words came out in sharp blurts like “No!” or “Mine!” with full sentences coming out rarely. If he said anything otherwise it was monotone and devoid of emotion. His walking and running was fine, but his coordination and motor skills left something to be desired, with him often dropping things or crawling up stairs because he couldn’t get his legs to work right to go up one stair at a time. And it was easy to get his interest with various toys and movies, but the problem was getting him to let up his attention for just a second. If she tried to pull him away he would fall to the floor and have a meltdown, complete with screaming and kicking until he had worked himself to exhaustion. It was only in his exhaustion that she was able to cuddle him, still hiccuping, and bring him up to bed. 

But despite their son’s difficulties, both Mr and Mrs Tucker were determined to help him outgrow some of his pain and develop into a semi-normal child. So Mrs. Tucker began to call various doctors and other professionals to see what they could do for her baby boy.

“You said he has WHAT?” Mrs. Tucker was sure she had heard the doctor right, but she was just checking to be sure. 

“Asperger’s Syndrome.” The doctor said calmly, flipping through her notes. “Your son Craig has all the symptoms that most children with the condition have at his age.”

If the symptoms included a Craig sitting on the floor in the waiting room a few feet away, refusing to talk to the other children and rocking in place, then Mrs. Tucker was willing to believe it. There were a few other kids his age and none of them were doing that, making Craig’s behavior stick out like a sore thumb.

“Most symptoms include sensitivities to taste, touch, smells, lights, and sounds.” The doctor was continuing on without Mrs. Tucker realizing it. “Others include behaviours like rocking, spinning, having intense interests, and not making eye-contact. These aren’t all the symptons, but surely you have noticed a few in your son over the years?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Tucker breathed, looking over at Craig again. He had found a red race car and was now driving it over the nubbly carpet, making screeching car noises with his mouth. “He’s been into the Red Racer series since he came to us at eight months old. It was the only thing that calmed him down and helped him sleep” 

“He’s adopted?” The doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, from Peru.” Mrs. Tucker replied. “His forms had little information on his birth parents, but they did mention that he was born a month early and had jaundice as an infant.” 

“Well that might explain something.” The doctor pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I was going to ask if the condition ran in your family, but seeing as he was a premature baby, I’d pin that on the reason he may have developed it.” 

“Most likely…” Mrs. Tucker sank into a nearby chair. She felt like someone had exploded a bomb of bad news in her face. She wasn’t that surprised by her son’s diagnosis, but it was still a lot to take in and worrying overall in terms of his future. 

“I’m very sorry you had to hear all this, Mrs. Tucker.” The doctor, who was luckily one that dealt with these reactions all the time, was patting her on the shoulder and letting her take it in without intruding too much. “There are plenty of ways to help your son with his motor skills and speech problems, but he may need more help over the years to help him desensitize to sounds and smells for example.”

“This may sound silly for asking,” Mrs. Tucker lifted up her head to face the doctor seriously, “But will he have a good shot at a normal life? Will he get a job? Will be have friends? Will he be able to...even love anyone?” She was mostly running off of Autism myths that she had heard from other people, but she wanted to asked a professional before she made assumptions. 

“I say that yes, he will.” The doctor promised. “His diagnosis, despite what it sounds, is high functioning. He’ll be able to have a normal life, but he will certainly have struggles academically and socially. As for the romance factor...I say cross that bridge when he’s older. But don’t be surprised if he comes out as disinterested or asexual in the future-it can be hard for people with Asperger’s to feel empathy and romantic feelings.” 

“That will be hard for his father to swallow.” Mrs. Tucker laughed. “He really wants Craig to continue on the Tucker family line, even if he isn’t his birth son!” 

“Well that’s good to hear.” The doctor laughed, picking up a few forms and pamphlets. “Either way, I suggest you get Craig enrolled in Physical, Speech, and Occupational therapy. The sooner he gets help for his condition, the easier the time he will have when he starts school. He can take special ed classes once he enrolls and will have assistance from the teachers if he needs it” 

“Thank you so much.” Mrs. Tucker said, giving the doctor a hug. In her mind, she was concerned about how much this would all cost, but she was glad that Craig would be getting the help he needed to improve his behavior and his life overall.

“Come back in a few months for his seasonal checkup.” The doctor replied, waving over her shoulder as she went over to tell another mother that her son was ready to be examined. “Mrs. Tweak, can you and your son...wait a minute, where is he?”

“Oh?’ Mrs. Tweak, a women who Mrs. Tucker had only passed by in the park and grocery store once in awhile was looking around the room frantically. “Oh dear...he gets so freaked out, he may have wandered and gotten scared and-oh never mind, there you are Tweek!”

She had spotted her son, but what he was doing had caught Mrs. Tucker’s eyes as well.

Craig was sitting on the floor where she had left him, but he wasn’t alone anymore. Mrs. Tweak’s son, a little scrap of a toddler with blonde hair and huge green eyes, covered in bandages and wearing baggy overalls, was sitting on the floor with her Autistic son and TALKING to him. Well, in the best way that he could. He seemed to be only Craig’s age and his speech was on point despite still being baby-like, something that Mrs. Tucker wished her own son could do.

“And then me said No no no it scawy…” Tweek Tweak made a face and twitched as he talked. His way of twitching made him look like a little gold colored bunny. “But Mama told me no no the gnomes are fake, Daddy was messing wif me…” 

“Why?” Craig asked. His voice help more curiosity than Mrs. Tucker had ever heard from him. He was even LOOKING at him and that was something in itself from Craig, who never made eye contact with ANYONE. Well, in reality his eyes were fixed on Tweek’s shoulder, but it was an improvement.

“I know they real!” Tweek insisted, waving his hands around in the air. “I saw em!”

“No way!”

“Yesh way!” 

“Tweek honey, I don’t want to interrupt, but it’s time to go in.” Mrs. Tweak rubbed his messy golden locks between her fingers and helped him up. “Now say goodbye to that nice little boy please.” 

“Bye Bye!” Tweek waved, grinning at Craig.

And to Mrs. Tucker’s surprise, her son, who would just blurt out a quick “bye” and run away, said “Bye Bye too!” and giggled. She had never heard Craig giggle like that before. He sounded so happy and it made her heart break to see Tweek and his mother ushered into another room. Craig looked around, slightly disoriented, and then bent down to play with his red car again. 

“Ready to go now sweetheart?” Mrs. Tucker asked, kneeling down to his level so that she could speak to him. 

“No.” Craig said, not looking up from his car, his voice monotone once more. “Where did he go?” 

“He had a doctor’s appointment dear.” Mrs. Tucker was worried that this would lead to a meltdown. It had happened before the last time Craig was dragged away from something he was fixated on, that being the time he was staring at the guinea pigs in the pet store. He had been enthralled by them, watching them for about an hour, and when his Mother had to drag him home, he was full on screaming, kicking, wailing at the top of his lungs. He had worked himself up so much he had a fever the next morning.

“Oh.” Craig was still not looking at her, but she could tell from his facial expression that he looked heartbroken. That wasn't good. 

“C’mon honey, we need to go.” Mrs.Tucker made her voice sound more annoyed, in hopes that it would convince him to leave with her or else.

“I want him.” Craig said, rubbing the wheels of his car between his palms. “He was nice.”

“He was, yes honey, but I promise you that you’ll probably see him when you start preschool next year.” Mrs.Tucker wasn’t promising that, but it wouldn’t hurt. “Now let’s go home to Daddy.”

This convinced Craig. He got up, dropping the car to the floor, and let his mother put on his coat and take his hand, which was the barest amount of touching he could endure. As they walked outside, both of them shivering in the cold, she kept looking down at him to make sure he was alright. She could never tell of this would be a full on fixation or just a passing interest of his, that young Tweak boy. At the current moment, he seemed to have still held his interest, by the way he keep looking back at the doctor’s office.

“You alright there Craigy?” Mrs.Tucker said. They had reached the car now and she was buckling him into his car seat.

“Yeah.” Craig was looking over her shoulder, once more at the office that they had just vacated. He squirmed as the strap clicked into place. 

Mrs. Tucker got into the front of the car and started the engine. As she was backing out of her parking spot, she chanced one last look at Craig. He wasn’t looking at the office anymore, just staring up at the ceiling of the car, waving his hands around in the same manner that Mrs. Tucker swore she saw Tweek doing before….


	2. Fresh Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayeeee this will be the last chapter focusing on Craig's mother. It's going to be all Craig from here on out  
> -He's going to be aging as the story goes on so don't worry, he won't be in therapy forever and it will go beyond preschool, hopefully to adulthood  
> -Craig's a bit of a pos kid and THAT was fun to write about hahaha  
> -The occupational therapy stuff with the stairs? It was a real problem I had when I was three so I made Craig have it too. Don't worry, it won't be resurfacing, he was fine after therapy.  
> -Also hi Miss Claridge, before she got set on fire :(  
> -Anyway enjoy!

Craig was indeed signed up for therapy, pretty much the minute Mrs. Tucker walked in through the front door. Mr. Tucker didn’t even find out about Craig’s diagnosis or all the therapy plans until dinner that night. 

“The sooner he gets help for his Asperger’s, the better chance he’ll have a happier childhood.” Mrs. Tucker explained to him, trying to eat her dinner with one hand and cut Craig’s food with the other.

“I do hope it helps.” Mr. Tucker sighed as he watched Craig drop his chicken nuggets on the floor for the third time. 

Craig’s therapy place for kids was nothing that special really, but it did get him the help he so desperately needed. Most specifically, the three kinds that had been suggested by the doctor; occupational, physical, and speech therapy. And slowly but surely, Craig began to improve.

His motor skills picked up first. He stopped dropping things and he could actually walk up the stairs, which was a relief to his parents, because before then his crawling had taken so long they’d just carried him up.  
His speech had also come a long way. He was no longer blurting out random words, but could talk in sentences as easily as a kid his age could. There wasn’t much they could do about the monotone quality though, which had now gained a nasal edge to it as Craig got older. That would have to come later, his speech therapist told Mrs.Tucker. 

By the time Craig turned four, he could do a lot more for himself than he could before therapy, plus more. He could dress himself, eat with a fork and knife, and even hold a consistent conversation with his dad. His meltdowns were becoming less frequent as well, making the household feel less like a ticking time bomb and more like a safe environment to bring up a little kid.

However, other things didn’t quite go as well. Craig was still sensitive to noise, but he was taught tricks to “deal” with it (such as bringing earplugs around with him) He still didn’t like making eye contact and it was still a struggle to hug him or force him to wear certain kinds of clothes (mittens were the worst) His fixations were also still a thing that was going on, but when Mrs. Tucker had talked to one of the therapists about it, she had told her that it was actually to his advantage. 

“Let him be interested and see what happens,” she had told her, watching Craig play with some modeling clay in the waiting room. “It’s a good strength to have, fixation and concentration like that. I say let him have his interests and be supportive of them, just as long as they’re safe.”

So that was how Craig had ended up with a guinea pig. After his meltdown over not wanting to leave them in the pet store, she took him back a few months later after his communication had improved and he was able to explain how much he LOVED them. That very same day, they came home with arms full of guinea pig food, toys, cage, cleaning supplies, and one happy Craig carrying his new pet, nicknamed Stripe on the spot due to the stripe around his middle (He wasn’t that original when it came to names) She had half expected him to get bored with Stripe after a few weeks but nope, he was still crazy for him several months later. He loved books on Guinea pigs and they were his favorites to read about when they weren’t about the Red Racer. He was constantly asking both his parents to read them to him whenever they tucked him into bed for the night. 

Speaking of the Red Racer, he was still hooked on the show more than ever and could recite all the lines from memory and sing the opening and ending songs (In a sort of nasally and slightly off key voice) He would run around the house with a racing helmet, Stripe clutched in his arms, making all sorts of loud car noises and screeches. It was a bit obnoxious, especially when Mrs. Tucker was trying to do her taxes, but it made her heart glad to see Craig so much happier these days. 

At the same time, she was very worried for him. Since his fourth birthday back in January, she knew that preschool was looming in August. Craig didn’t go out of the house much except for errands and the occasional trip to the playground, but every time they did, he would always stick by her and refuse to talk or make eye contact with anyone, even when a nice adult was telling him how cute he was. She didn’t know how he’d react to suddenly being placed in a room full of screaming, paste eating children. She was sure he’d have a meltdown the moment he stepped through the classroom doors. She was very tempted to just say “Screw it, I’m homeschooling him,” but there was a major problem that was stopping her from doing that.

She had found out she was pregnant. Something she had never thought would happen. The doctors had told her she had a very low chance of conceiving naturally, which is why she and her husband had adopted Craig, but here she was now. Due next March. She was elated, but also more worried than she had ever been before.

She knew she couldn’t teach Craig while she was heavily pregnant and she knew she wouldn’t be able to devote all her attention to him after the baby arrived. She wasn’t even sure how he was going to react to getting a new sibling because when she had told him that he was going to be a big brother, he just stared and went back to his legos. It clearly hadn’t clicked with him. 

And so, with a worried sigh, she sighed Craig up for the South Park Preschool program. 

When the big day arrived, she made sure Craig was clean, nicely dressed, and had breakfast and had packed all his school supplies in his brand new red backpack the night before. As they walked from their house to school, she gave him one last string of reprimanding. 

“Now remember Craig, don’t pull anyone’s hair.”

“Yes Mommy.”

“And don’t knock over anyone’s block towers or paint over anyone’s art projects.”

“Yes Mommy.” 

“And NO singing loudly when someone tells you to stop!”

“I get it Mommy! Now leave me be!”

Craig let go of his mother’s hand and ran ahead to try and get away from her lecturing, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and face-planting. The harsh fall made him start wailing at the top of his lungs, making the pedestrians walking by stop and stare.

“Oh honey…I’m so sorry...” Mrs. Tucker kneeled down to help him up. He had dirt all over his clean Red Racer T-shirt and a purple and yellow bruise forming on his cheek. His eyes were red and dripping with tears, but he seemed alright otherwise. She took out a package of bandages from her purse and stuck one on the bruise, to make him feel better about it. 

“We need to get going, or we’ll be late for your first day of school.” Mrs. Tucker told Craig as he rubbed at his sore eyes. “We’ll clean you up in the bathroom before you go into your classroom, okay sweetheart?”

“Okay…” He reluctantly took her hand again and they were once more on their way. As they got closer to the school, the more they began to hear the laughter and shrieks of other kids. The sounds made Craig tense up, squeezing his mother’s hand harder. 

“It’s going to be okay Craig.” Mrs. Tucker assured him, tense with worry herself. “You’re going to go in, make friends, play with toys, and have fun until I come and pick you up. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Mmmph,” was all Craig said in reply. When he was especially nervous about something, he reverted back to his limited vocabulary. They were still working on that in speech therapy. 

When they got inside the school building, they made a detour to the women’s bathroom (Craig was still small enough to come with her into them) Mrs. Tucker grabbed a wad of paper towels, wet them, and used them to clean off Craig’s face and shirt. The dirt slipped off and his eyes weren’t as red now, but there wasn’t much that could be done about his rapidly swelling bruise. He was oddly cooperative as she cleaned him up, just tugging at the yellow strings of the blue and yellow chullo hat his father had gotten him as a first day of preschool gift. Mrs. Tucker had protested at first (“Thomas, it’s August, he’ll overheat,”) but Craig had been smitten and made all sorts of excited little noises and babbling, dancing and spinning in place with delight as he showed off his new hat to them. 

“There! That should do it.” Mrs. Tucker held her son at arm’s length to look at him the best she could without making eye contact that would overwhelm him. 

Craig looked adorable in his first day of school outfit. His Red Racer T-Shirt was one of his favorites so of course he had insisted on wearing it on his first day. His blue and yellow hat was a few sizes too big, but he would grow into it. With his light brown skin, shiny black hair, and pretty blue eyes, he looked like a model preschooler in her mind. In reality, he was far from the case with his unpredictable behavior and massive bruise still hidden under the band-aid, but she could dream, right? 

“I’m scared Mommy.” Craig admitted, his eyes wide. He was trembling a little too, she could feel it. 

“It’s going to be okay Craigy.” Mrs. Tucker assured him once more. “You’re all clean now, we can go in and meet your teacher.” 

“Okay…” Craig let his mother once more take his hand, leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to Miss Claridge’s preschool classroom. The door was decorated with smiley faces and flowers. Mrs. Tucker thought she could hear Craig gagging under his breath when he saw them, but she wasn’t sure. 

“Oh, hello there!” Miss Claridge opened the door and greeted them. She was a pretty lady, thin with reddish brown hair and kindly eyes. She was wearing all purple and had daisies tucked into her hair. “You must be Mrs. Tucker!”

“Yes, I am.” Mrs. Tucker said, feeling glad that Miss Claridge seemed nice. She gave Craig a little nudge. “Say hi to Miss Claridge Craig.”

“Oh my.” Miss Claridge bent down to Craig’s level to get a better look at him. She kept a safe distance, which Mrs. Tucker was thankful for. “You must be little Craig Tucker! Your mother told me all about you and how much you love guinea pigs and Red Racer!”

Craig didn’t say anything to that, but instead glared at her as indirectly as he could and flipped her off. 

“Craig!” Mrs. Tucker scolded, sighing. He had picked that up from her and her husband, who liked to flip each other off on a daily basis, something angrily and sometimes affectionately. She was pretty sure Craig didn’t know what it meant, nor just how BAD it was that he was doing it at age four. Another thing to work on in therapy, she supposed. 

“Never mind that…” Miss Claridge looked back at Craig uncomfortably and then stood up again to talk to his mother. “I’ll take care of him and follow what you told me in your letter. I’ll see you at noon when it’s time to pick him up.”

“Bye sweetie.” Mrs. Tucker picked up her squirming son and gave him a very stiff and one sided hug. “I’ll be back soon.” She silently prayed that he would get through the next three hours without flipping anyone else off or having a massive meltdown. 

“Mommy…” Craig murmured when she put him down. Mrs. Tucker gave him a kiss on the forehead and turned around, leaving the school building with Craig looking back at her as she departed. His lips trembled for a second before he burst into tears for the second time that day. 

“Oh dear god.” Miss Claridge murmured. She was going to have her work cut out for her.


	3. We Are Going to Be Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally meeting Clyde and Token in this chapter, yayyyy! It's always been my headcanon that Craig met them when he was really little so I got to use it to my advantage here.  
> -Craig's thing with the bookshelf was a real thing I did when I was in preschool. I didn't want to interact with anyone so I just sat there and looked at picture books all day haha  
> -Yes Craig drinks from a sippy cup at this age. I did too and I once had a horrible meltdown in public because I was given my milk in the WRONG sippy cup :'D  
> -Butters gets a cameo, woop!  
> -Clyde yelling bullshit at age four may be my favorite part of this chapter  
> -Also Craig doesn't realize it yet but already at this age he mayyyy be crushing on Tweek
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! ^^

Craig kept at his crying for a good five minutes. He was scared. His mommy didn’t usually leave him with strange people and then leave him all alone with them, that had never happened before. Even when he was in therapy, she was sitting in a nearby chair, cheering him on. Craig was still too young to understand just how his disability affected him, so he had just been told that his brain “was a tad different but not broken,” and that he required therapy to help get it to be a bit less “different”. Now, he was all alone, with nobody and nothing familiar and it was totally freaking him out. 

“Oh my gosh, Craig, please calm down!” Miss Claridge, not unkindly, waiting on him with bated breath. She was almost scared to touch this bawling autistic child who was potentially on the verge of a meltdown. She didn’t want to make things worse. 

“Mommyyyy!” Craig screamed, rubbing at his eyes, starting to tremble in place.

“Craig,” Miss Claridge grabbed his arm, the sudden action making Craig stop bawling and stare at her, hiccuping. “You’ll be okay, alright? Your mommy will be back for you soon, I promise you.”

“You sure?” Craig sniffled, snot dripping from one nostril. Seeing it, Miss Claridge pulled out a packet of tissues and wiped it away for him. He winced from the rough texture but made no other forms of protests.

“I promise.” Miss Claridge had dealt with worse tantrums than this before. Many of those kids didn’t even have Aspergers. “Now, are you ready to cheer up and go in?”

“Yeah…” Craig nodded, wiping the last of his tears from his cheeks. He didn’t sound totally convinced, but she would take it anyway. Miss Claridge turned away and opened the classroom door, beckoning him inside. He did so reluctantly, but no longer in tears.

The classroom was painted blue, with pictures of bunnies and ducks on the wall. The floor was coated with grayish carpeting that felt rough enough to give someone carpet burns if they weren’t careful enough. Lots of pictures were hanging up on the walls, some were guides to letters and numbers, others were paintings and craft projects that the other kids had done. All around, there were lots of toys that Craig had at home, such as various toy cars, trucks, and a plastic slide. There were also other toys that he had seen in the waiting rooms at the doctors and at therapy, such as paint sets, building blocks, modeling clay, a toy kitchen, and a shelf full of picture books in a corner, complete with bean bags. 

He would have been more excited about the prospect of all these fun toys if it hadn’t been for the overabundance of...KIDS.

There were kids his age everywhere. Some were playing quietly with the toys, others were fighting over them, and he could hear laughter and shrieks and screams and babbling coming from all different directions. It was a lot more than he was used to and he could feel his body start to shake a bit, the familiar feeling that he associated to hiding behind his mother’s skirt or burying his face into Stripe’s fur when he was especially freaked out rising.

“Craig, how about you go and find a quiet corner until snack time?” Miss Claridge suggested, sensing his discomfort. “You can zone out and take your time until you’re ready to interact with your classmates. The reading corner would be a good spot, or you can find an empty table and play by yourself for a while.” 

This sounded like a great idea to Craig. He nodded happily, bouncing on his heals a bit, and raced over to the hooks to hang up his coat and backpack, refusing to take off his hat despite being indoors. Once that was over with, he went over to the book corner and pulled a big book on race cars down from the shelf, settling himself into a beanbag chair to read it. That was how he stayed for an hour, by himself, just devouring book after book. He read about race cars, guinea pigs, and even found some books on new subjects that he never would have considered interesting before, such as pirates and outer space. Miss Claridge went on to help out other children, but she kept sneaking peeks at him to make sure he was still doing alright. By the way he was turning pages, humming to himself and rocking in place, she was pretty sure he was.

It took a bit of coaxing to get Craig to sit down and eat his snack, but she managed it by letting him bring over a book to read as he ate (Just as long as he didn’t spill anything) He sat there in his chair, picking at his graham crackers perched on a clean napkin and taking tiny sips of his apple juice from the sippy cup his mother had packed for him to use. It had a dancing guinea pig wearing a top hat on it, which made some of the kids stop eating and stare at it. Craig was feeling nervous now, his grip on the cup tightening as he took small sips and flipped through the pages of the book on aliens that he had brought over to table with him. This was his favorite cup and he and his mom had nearly come to blows over letting him bring it or not. She was worried it would break, but Craig refused to drink out of anything else so she relented.

“Nice cup!” A chubby brown haired boy in a red shirt sitting next to Craig piped up, his mouth full of graham crackers, crumbs falling out as he talked.

“My mommy got it for me.” Craig replied, not quite sure how to take this complement. He gripped it tighter in case the boy was planning on stealing it. 

“And she let you bring it to school?” Another boy at the table was talking to him as well, this one with brown skin that was even darker than Craig’s. His dark brown eyes were trying to make contact with Craig’s blue ones, which was making him more anxious. He didn’t know anyone in this classroom save for his teacher and his cousin, Red (who had already finished her snack and was playing house with a few other girls) and anyone strange that tried to make eye contact with him automatically made him uncomfortable. 

Craig simply just nodded though, shrinking down a bit in his seat, his mouth still on the cup. He didn’t care that he looked like a baby, he just wanted to combust on the spot. 

“You hiding?” The brown haired boy asked, wiping his hands on his shirt. Craig noticed that and winced, imagining how filthy his shirts must get everyday. 

“I said are you hiding?” The boy repeated, relentless. “This isn’t hide and seek.” 

“No.” Craig answered in a blunt voice. “I just don’t want to be looked at.” 

“Why?” The boy persisted. “I like attention!” 

“Well I don’t.” Craig snapped, sucking on the value of his cup’s lid, even though all the juice was gone now. 

“Clyde, Token, leave Craig be.” Miss Claridge had seen it all and was now eyeing the three of them critically. This was too much for Craig, who decided it was a good time to escape underneath the table, cup and all. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!” The black boy insisted, looking cross. 

“I’m sorry then.” Miss Claridge apologized. “I guess I should mention that you little friend over here, Craig, has some difficulties that make him react different to new things than you two do.”

“Just like Tweek?” Clyde asked. 

“Tweek?” Craig poked his head out from under the table. That name sounded familiar. “Who’s Tweek?”

“That kid over there.” Token pointed him out at a table to their right, looking rather surprised at Craig’s sudden interest. “He twitches and gets nervous when people ask him too many questions, just like you do.”

“Really?” Craig asked, turning to look in the direct Token was pointing. He saw what looked like a cloud of fluffy blonde hair and-YES that was him! That was the kid had been looking for since last year!

“I’ve met him before!” Craig burst out, surprising himself and Token and Clyde with how loud his voice got. “I met him at the doctor’s last year!”

“You remember him from that far back?” Clyde asked, his light brown eyes wide with amazement, watching Craig sit back down in his seat so that he could have a better view. “That’s like forever ago!”

“What was he like to you?” Token asked, resting his head on his hands, still trying to get eye contact with Craig despite the teacher’s warning. 

“Nice.” Craig said. He was staring down at his unfinished snack, grinning a little shyly. “I was playing alone and he came up to be and started babbling about...uh...garden gnomes maybe? I couldn’t talk much then, but that was okay, he did it all, and boy did he sound cute. He squeaked when he talked and waved his arms around a lot too.”

“Awww.” Clyde cooed. “How cute!”

“I wonder if he remembers you too?” Token said. He had decided to give up on the eye contact and was looking over at the back of Tweek’s head, which was messy and full of knots. Craig supposed he didn’t like having his hair brushed, which he could sympathize with. 

“There’s one way to find out.” Clyde poked Craig’s shoulder and pointed at Tweek, who had now finished his snack and was playing with some finger-paints. “Go and say hi!”

“I can’t.”

The words came out of Craig’s mouth before he was even aware that he was speaking. 

“Why not?” Token asked him. “He seems like a nice kid, maybe he’ll remember you too!”

“I-I don’t know how to introduce myself…” Craig couldn’t look at anyone now. His face was red from embarrassment. “He’d probably think I’m dumb anyway….”

“Oh that’s bullshit!” Clyde burst out. His sudden swearing outburst made everyone else at their table turn to stare right at him, half shocked and half mind blown. Luckily, Miss Claridge was on the other side of the classroom, where she couldn’t hear what was going on. 

“Sorry…” It was Clyde’s turn to become red in the face. 

“Anyway…” Token waved his hand to dismiss what had just happened. “Craig, from what I’ve seen of you, I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“I-I drink from a guinea pig sippy cup!” Craig protested, still rather blotchy in the face. 

“And I drink from a teddy bear one!” Clyde informed him, holding it up so that he could see it. He was right. 

“I just…” Craig once more looked down, fiddling with his precious cup, “I really just don’t know how...everyone I know just comes up to me.”

“Like we did?” Token asked, smiling a little.

Craig looked up at him and for the briefest second, he makes eye contact and said “Yeah, like you guys did.” 

“Okay then!” Clyde grinned, patting Craig on the back. He winced but made no protest “No experience or not, just go up and say hi anyway!”

“But-”

“Just do it.” Token and Clyde both said together, their facial expressions and tone of voice exactly in sync. Craig couldn’t tell if that was on purpose or just a coincidence, but he sighed and got up, still holding his cup in one hand. He started walking towards the table Tweek sat at, glancing back to see Clyde giving him a thumbs up for luck. 

Craig turns slightly away to take a look at Tweek from the side, hoping for a better look at his face to make sure he really IS the Tweek Tweak he met in the waiting room last year. Sure enough, Craig recognized that it was indeed him, and butterflies began to flutter in his chest the longer he looked at him, too scared to make a move.

Tweek was tiny, probably the tiniest kid in the classroom, with golden blonde hair that stuck up in all directions, like a fluffy cloud, and a little face covered in freckles with mossy green eyes that made him look almost puppy like. He had long eyelashes too that kissed his cheeks when he blinked and squinted, trying to get his trembling fingers to stay still enough for him to paint. It wasn’t quite working and Craig could see splatters of green paint all down the front of his shirt. Craig didn’t want to interrupt, so he just stood there and watched, trying to get the nerve and the knowledge somehow for him to figure out how to just simply say hello. 

Just as he was about to open his mouth to finally say it, someone crashed into his back, making him topple to the floor and bump his head on the table leg, hard. His cup fell out of his hands and rolled underneath Tweek’s chair, out of reach.

“Oh gee wiz! I’m so so sorry!” The guilty kid cried, tears running down his face. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, Eric was chasing after me and augh I’m so sorry!”

Craig looked up to stare at the blubbering kid, their expressions almost mirroring each other in terms of the amount of tears pouring down their faces. He was also small, with cropped blonde hair and light blue eyes, clutching a security blanket in his hands. He was looking at Craig as though he expected to punch him in the face. Craig was almost tempted too, to make him feel sorry for ruining his chances, but then something else happened that made him stop himself.

“Gah! Y-you okay down there?”

Craig turned his sore head around to glance up at Tweek. Tweek had stopped finger painting and was holding out his hand to help him up. Craig took it, not caring for once about the gooey finger-paint that was staining his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other blonde kid dart away, screaming something about hamburgers to no one in particular. 

“Any boo boos?” Tweek asked him, his eyes wide with worry. 

“No.” Craig said, touching his forehead and feeling nothing. “Maybe a bump will form later, but I’ll live.” 

“Oh,” was all Tweek said on the matter. He bent down and picked up something from off the ground. “Is this yours?”

It was Craig’s dancing guinea pig cup, somehow still in one piece, only slightly dirty due to being on the floor and from Tweek’s stained fingers. Craig gruffly took it back and hugged it to his chest, murmuring a monotone “Thank you.” 

“N-no problem.” Tweek stammered, smiling nervously at him. Craig fixed his eyes on his shoulder, which was the best he could do without feeling too overwhelmed. He recalled that this was the very same thing he did last time he was with Tweek. 

“I...uh...have we met before?” Tweek asked him, tilting his head. “What’s your name?”

“Craig Tucker.” Craig answered this like he was on autopilot, which when it came to social situations, he felt like he was on.

“I’m Tweek Tweak.” Tweek told him. He was twitching in a way that reminded Craig of how he himself got before he had a meltdown. In his mind, he silently prayed that Tweek didn’t suffer from similar problems that he did.

“I think we have met before.” Craig said, running his fingers over his cup.

“Huh? When was that?”

“Uh, last year?” Craig said. “We were in the waiting room at the doctors and you were going on about gnomes.”

“Oh!” Tweek said, clapping his hand to his forehead. His hand left a sticky green mark. The memory seemed to be rushing back to him. “Now that you bring it up, I remember too! Man, I sure couldn’t talk that well back then.” 

“Neither could I.” Craig said. “I could barely string together a sentence! How things have changed.”

“I-it’s like fate.” Tweek whispered, his green eyes wide. “How we ended up meeting again here, as classmates.”

“Yeah.” Craig replied. In reality, they probably would have run into each other again, since South Park was so small to begin with, but it couldn’t hurt to dream like this. Instead, he just grinned at Tweek and his smile was returned in the form of a small little grin that was slightly crooked, his cheeks rosy with joy. Just this alone made Craig’s heart beat faster. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that this little moment would be one that he would treasure always.

The rest of the hour passed by quickly. Craig didn’t spend it alone by the bookcase anymore, but instead built a giant tower out of blocks with the help of Token, Tweek, and Clyde and then sat down to draw pictures with them, laughing and talking all the while. He wasn’t perfect at all the social stuff, but it beat being alone by the books. 

“I drew a bear!” Clyde bragged, holding up his crayon scribbled masterpiece. They all laughed when they saw that the picture also involved the bear tearing apart a miniature city. 

“I drew a house.” Token said, modest as they exclaimed over it. 

“I-I drew a flower.” Tweek squeaked, turning pink. “It’s dumb and girly, I know…”

“Don’t be.” Craig assured him, tracing the petals with his finger. “It’s...adorable!”

“Gah!” Tweek swiped the picture out of Craig’s hands and hugged it to his chest. Craig noticed that he was visibly getting redder.

“What’d you draw Craig?” Token coughed, bring Craig back to earth. 

“Oh! Uhhh…” Craig up his picture, puffing out his chest with pride. “This.”

“A giant guinea pig invasion destroying the town?” Clyde took a wild stab at it, squinting.

“Yes!” Craig laughed. “You got me there!”

“That’s awesome Craig!” Token said, leaning over to get a better look. “You’re a really great artist!”

“Y-yeah.” Tweek agreed shyly, making Craig’s heart beat faster all over again. He was about to open his mouth to say something when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Agitated, he turned around to see his Mother standing behind him, holding his coat and backpack.

“Ready to go sweetie?” Mrs. Tucker asked him.

“Yeah Mommy…” Craig turned red around the ears as Clyde roared with laughter. “Gimmie a second….” He picked up his picture and gave it to her and then turned back to his new friends.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Craig asked, worried that if he blinked, they’d all be gone.

“Of course!” Token insisted. “You’re our buddy now, so you’re gonna be stuck with us from here on out.”

“Til death do us part.” Clyde said solemnly, saluting. 

“See you then…” Tweek’s hands glided over the tabletop until he grabbed something and turned back around “You almost forgot this!” 

It was his guinea pig sippy cup. It still had paint stains on it from Tweek’s fingers and Craig made a mental note to never let his mother wash it ever again. He would start using a different sippy cup from now on. 

“Thank you.” Craig whispered, slipping it into his backpack. He took his mother’s hand and turned around one more time to wave before he was ushered out of the classroom. As he left, he could hear a shriek that sounded like Tweek’s coming from the room. He had done a lot of shrieking while they were playing together. It seemed that Clyde had probably decided it was a good time to grill the little blonde on everything little thing about himself. 

“How was your morning honey?” Mrs. Tucker asked as they walked home. Craig had been all smiles, which was weird for him even on a good day.

“It was good.” Craig told her, still grinning.

“I saw you made some friends.” Mrs. Tucker gave him a sly smile. “I knew you’d find a few here! Anyone in particular you want to tell me about?”

“Well there’s Clyde.” Craig was racking his brains for the right words to describe his buddies. “He’s a bit touchy and dim, but nice. Token’s cool, he’s so modest and nice to everyone, and, uh…”

“Yes Craig?” His mother asked. They were home now and she was fumbling with the keys to the front door. 

“I found him.” Craig breathed.

“Who?” 

“Tweek!” Craig was flapping his arms around in delight as he rushed in through the door. “That kid from the waiting room! He was in my class and I finally got to know him and he...he was so cute.”

“Oh yes, I remember now.” Mrs. Tucker had never gotten the image of her son looking around helplessly for the blonde kid in his baggy overalls out of her head. “It’s lovely that you two go to the same school now!”

“Yes.” Craig grinned, flopping on the couch without even taking his shoes off, kicking the air and waving his arms around once more.

“Shoes off in the house dear.” Mrs. Tucker reminded him, “Now, what would you like for lunch? Grilled cheese again?”

“Sure.” Craig agreed, turning on the TV to watch Red Racer while she cooked. But for once, he couldn’t fixate himself on his favorite show. His mind was fixated on something else.

That something was Tweek Tweak.


	4. Life Goes On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is passing and once more, Craig is getting older. Maybe also a bit wiser. Or stupider. Take your pick  
> -I wanted to have a birthday part scene for Craig when he was little so that's partially the reason that this chapter was created.  
> -Why did I choose Bambi? I'm actually not so sure. It just seemed to me like a movie that little kid Tweek would enjoy (besides the part when Bambi's mom gets shot) and I thought using the term Twitterpated would be fun for the characters at this age. Besides, Disney movies are awesome and I sure watched them a lot as a kid. The Aristocats was my favorite when I was their age here.  
> -Craig's obsessions are starting to shift towards space, yayyy  
> -Also Ruby will be born by the next chapter so stay turned for that. 
> 
> Enjoy guys! ^^

Craig’s time at preschool went very well despite his disability. He was lucky to have made three good friends on the first day, and they continued to hang out with him as the time passed. They played everything together, such as race car drivers, doctors, cowboys, and spacemen, which quickly became Craig’s favorite game. 

As he got to know them better, he began to pick up tiny little quirks and details about all three of them that he wasn’t even sure they knew they had. Just from hanging out with them long enough, he was able to notice that Clyde was a crybaby who would wail whenever he didn’t get his way, that Token was a rich kid and wore designer kid’s clothes, and that despite being only four, Tweek drank coffee from a sippy cup instead of milk and juice like he did.

“Mama started giving it to me when I was two and I can’t shake the habit.” Tweek explained, taking a big gulp from his froggy patterned plastic cup. Craig didn’t know that much about coffee, but he knew that his mother used to drink it every morning until she got pregnant and that it would wake her right up. Sometimes if she overdosed, she would start shaking a bit. Maybe that’s why Tweek trembles so much, Craig thought to himself. 

Clyde, who was a very social kid, introduced Craig to their other classmates as well. Through him, he met friendly but slightly annoying Stan Marsh, easily angered Kyle Broflovski, bully Eric Cartman (Who prefered to go by his last name), and quiet Kenny McCormick, whose voice was always muffled behind his red scarf. He also met Butters Stotch (The other blonde kid who had bumped into him on the first day) and Wendy Testaburger, who proved how tough she was by punching Cartman in the nose when he stole Stan’s pixie sticks. She was put into time out over it, due to causing his nose to bleed, but she claimed it was worth it. 

Despite his friends and all the fun they had together, Craig still had his issues. He had his limits with social interaction and would often come home wiped out and grouchy. He still got upset when someone started talking too loudly or played with a really noisy toy (The toy cars with the electronic beeping noises and the xylophone were the worst offenders) He didn’t like to look anyone in the eye and would often edge away from them while they yelled at him to “Look at me!” 

Clothing was still a problem too, to the point that he so uncomfortable one day, he stripped everything off but his underwear and hat and sat down to play with trucks with Clyde as though nothing had happened. When Miss Claridge tried to get him back into his clothes, he simply flipped her off while sitting on the floor in his Red Racer briefs, which in turn got him into even more trouble. 

Some days, he was so overwhelmed that he would have horrible meltdowns in the middle of the classroom. It would usually be something small that set him off, such as being served a different snack from usual, a loud noise that bothered him going off for too long, or finding out that either Clyde or Tweek was sick (Token almost never got sick) No matter what it was, he’d find himself on the floor, wailing and kicking and screeching and just being able to NOT stop and get a grip on himself, working himself into a frenzy. Once, while he was in this state, Miss Claridge tried to help him calm down and he bit her leg. That sent him straight home. When his mother picked him up, she was heavily pregnant and furious at him.

“Craig, what were you THINKING?” She scolded him as she dragged him home. Tears were still running down his face and he was trembling. He was already upset and his mother got scary when she was angry, all loud and puffed up like a frilled lizard. 

“Tweek got sick and I got scared.” Craig tried to explain tearfully as she glared at him. That was true. They were doing circle time and Tweek suddenly started gagging and threw up on the floor. It had alarmed all of them, but it especially shocked Tweek, who was staring at the vomit like he couldn’t believe it had really come from his own mouth. Miss Claridge dropped her book and ushered him out of the classroom, muttering something about a stomach bug and getting the custodian to clean up the puke. Craig tried to keep his cool, but something about Miss Claridge leading a green faced and unsteady Tweek out of the room set him off. He was worried about him, scared that he was really deadly ill and would die, and he started crying, which turned into screaming and then he was on his back, screaming and flailing his limb like an overturned turtle. 

“Craig no!” Clyde had protested, trying to get near him. Craig’s out of control limbs nearly hit him in the jaw and he was forced to step back in order to protect himself. He hid behind Token, who was too scared to even make a move towards Craig. If Tweek had been there, he would have hid behind Clyde or Token as well, not sure how to help. Craig wasn’t the only one who suffered from out of control problems in the class; Tweek also did. He sometimes had panic attacks that would make him run around the room screaming, sometimes knocking things over in the height of it. They happened more frequently than Craig’s meltdowns, but it was easier to get him to snap out of it and calm down. 

The first time Tweek had a panic attack in the classroom, it was a week after school started. Craig was only able to remember it because it had also been his “Gotcha Day” (The day that his parents had adopted him) Nobody knew what had set him off. He ran straight into Craig and hugged him tight, refusing to let go when Craig began to get antsy about the physical contact. When he calmed down ten minutes later and let go, Craig found that for the first time, he wanted him to keep on hugging. He had been small and warm and he smelled nice, like coffee and construction paper. He didn’t dare say so though, to be courteous of Tweek’s personal space. He was also worried that others would think it was weird that he, Craig Tucker, who hated being touched, actually wanted a hug from someone. That would just be too out there for anyone.

When Miss Claridge came back from the nurse’s office (Where she had dropped Tweek off while she called his mom) Craig was still out of control. When she bent down to help him up, he had lashed out and bit her leg, hard. He didn’t draw blood, but his behavior was out there enough to cause her to call his mom and tell him that once again, her son was having a meltdown in her classroom. His tearful explanation on the way home did little good and he was set to his room, his punishment being that there would be no Red Racer for him that day. Craig ended up occupying his cool-down time in other ways, such as playing with Stripe and making a get well card for Tweek out of blue paper, glitter, markers, and glue. He sure hoped he would get better soon. 

When Tweek came back to school three days later, his skin pale under his freckles but otherwise fine, Craig was the first person to rush over to him when he entered the classroom. Without even saying hi, he held out his card in front of Tweek, his hands shaking a bit.

“What’s this?” Tweek asked him, taking the card and opening it up. 

“I-I hope you like it.” Craig stammered, red faced as he watched Tweek stare at the picture of Tweek and himself in outer space, the stars coated in silver glitter. He knew that Tweek liked stars a lot and spacemen was also his favorite game. When Tweek looked up, he was all smiles, his eyes sparkling.

“I LOVE it!” He squealed, rushing into Craig’s open arms. “T-thank you so so much!”

“No problem,” was all Craig could choke out, his face visibly getting warmer the longer Tweek’s arms were around him. He was so glad he did. 

When January rolled about, all Craig could think about was his birthday. Up until then, all his parties had been private ones with just his family and himself. But now that he had made friends, he wanted to hold a proper birthday party. You don’t turn five everyday after all, Craig told himself.

Although his mother’s energy was slim, due to the baby arriving soon, she helped him make invitations and baked his favorite double chocolate cake. Craig helped his father put up streamers and inflate balloons, not to mention setting out party hats and favors (These included kid yo yos, some candy, and little hot wheel cars) By the time his first guest arrived at eleven o’clock, he was all dressed in his birthday outfit and ready.

“Happy Birthday!” Token was his first guest. Craig could see his mom waving as she drove away. He held out a nicely wrapped gift, which Craig could tell from just looking at it that it was expensive. Clyde showed up a few minutes later, his gift for Craig in a colorful bag. Tweek was the last one there, trembling in the doorway with his pretty brown haired mother, whose eye color Tweek had inherited. He was clinging to her skirt the same way Craig did with his own mother. 

“H-happy Birthday Craig.” Tweek whispered, sounding shy. His mother nudged him through the door encouragingly, pushing him closer to Craig. He held out his gift to him, a rectangular package wrapped up carefully in light green paper. 

“Thanks Tweek.” Craig replied, leading him inside. His mother turned around and walked out the door, giving her son a thumbs up as she left. 

The first half of the party went rather well. The four of them played Twister and Musical Chairs until the pizza Craig's parents had ordered for them arrived. Then, too stuffed to move, they horsed around on the couch, chatting it up and dumping punch in Clyde’s hair until they were ready for cake. When the song was sung (Not too loudly, but very off-key) the cake was cut and devoured, and the punch was washed out of Clyde's hair before it could crust, it was finally time for presents. 

“Open mine first!” Clyde insisted, plopping the bag in Craig’s lap. 

“Okay okay.” Craig grinned, pulling out the tissue paper until he found the gift buried inside. It was a Red Racer figure, one that he didn’t have yet.

“Thank you Clyde!” Craig said, thanking him in the way his mother had told him to do. His gift from Token was just as expensive as Craig expected it to be, which turned out to be a professional kit for building a model spaceship. The guidelines apparently said it was for kids eight years old and up, Token explained, but Craig said he was old enough mentally and grinned at Token in thanks. 

“H-here’s my gift.” Tweek stammered, handing over his package with shaking hands. Craig took it and tore of the paper, revealing that it was a VHS tape of-

“Bambi?” Token asked, leaning over to study the picture. None of them could read yet so they were just making a guess based on the picture. 

“Yeah…” Tweek was staring down as his socks, which were green and yellow striped. “It’s my favorite movie so I thought Craig would like it to, s-so I...uh…”

“I haven’t seen it.” Craig admitted, chewing on his lip as he studied the box. He turned to Tweek “Can we watch it right now?”

“It’s your house, so sure.” Tweek shrugged. “Just go get your dad to put it in.”

Craig raced off to the kitchen, where he found his father cleaning up their leftover food and explained the situation. A few minutes later, Craig’s father had set things up for them and they movie started, leaving them with instructions on how to pause and stop the movie if they needed too for emergencies and bathroom breaks.

“Let the movie watching commence!” Clyde yelled, bouncing on the couch. 

Craig admittedly hadn’t seen too many Disney movies and cartoons. He considered Disney princess ones too girly and tended to prefer his Red Racer stuff over Playhouse Disney. The only one he actually liked to watch on a daily basis was Toy Story, but in all honesty, he was getting bored of that one. He was ready for something new and the bonus that it was a gift from Tweek made it even better. 

The movie was rather slow, but cute, Craig found. He liked to watch Bambi move around because for some reason, he reminded him of Tweek. Tweek was thin legged and wobbly, often tripping over his own shoelaces. He also had big eyes with long lashes (although his were green and not brown) and was covered in spots (the freckles that were sprinkled across his cheeks) Craig looked over occasionally to find that even though Tweek had claimed to have seen the movie a lot, he still looked enamored and delighted by it. 

Even Clyde and Token got into it, crying openly with Tweek when Bambi’s mother died. Craig was confused until Tweek had to explain it to him that Bambi’s mother was dead, she wouldn’t be coming back. He thought of his own mother, who was resting upstairs in her room, dying like that and he shuddered. 

When the movie was over, they began to talk about it as the credits rolled. 

“I liked it.” Token said, grinning. “You have good taste Tweek.” 

“Thanks.” Tweek replied, twitching a little in place as he watched Craig reach over and stop the video. He would ask his dad to help him rewind it later. 

“I liked it too.” Clyde admitted, “But….”

“But what?” Tweek asked him, looking crestfallen. 

“The twitterpated part confused me.” Clyde admitted. “Is that what it’s like to fall in love? Seems kinda weird if you ask me.” 

“Yeah, same.” Craig agreed. “I’ve never felt like that around anyone.”

“Well, we are only four,” Tweek pointed out, “Errr….and five.” He added the last part on when he saw the looked Craig was giving him “I suppose we’ll find out what being twitterpated is really like when we’re older.” 

“I suppose so.” Token said thoughtfully as a car horn went off outside, making all four of them jump.

“Oh, that’s my mom!” Clyde grabbed his party favor bag and raced for the door yelling “Bye guys! Happy Birthday Craig!” Over his shoulder as he dashed away. A few minutes later, Token’s mom knocked at the door and Token departed in a similar fashion, waving as he left. Once he was gone, only Craig and Tweek remained

The two of them stared at each other. Crag’s eye contact had gotten slightly better thanks to therapy, but he still winced if he looked at someone too long. 

“You want to do anything?” Craig proposed.

“Mama will be here soon.” Tweek almost whispered, looking down at Bambi’s box. 

“Oh.” Craig deadpanned this as he watched Tweek’s fingers trace the Disney logo on the front. They were small and a bit chubby, baby hands pretty much. Craig’s own hands were big and clumsy in comparison. 

“Ummm…” Tweek looked up at Craig again, rubbing his fingers against his own shirt, “Did you like the movie or n-not? I didn’t hear what you thought about it.” 

“Trust me, I really enjoyed it.” Craig informed him, quite honestly. In the end, he really had. 

“I’m glad.” There was Tweek’s smile again, all rosy and slightly crooked and it made something stir in Craig’s chest as he watched him. He wanted to tell him that he had a nice smile, but something else came out instead.

“Uh, Tweek? Do you know what being Twitterpated feels like?” 

“Huh?” Tweek tilted his head to one side in confusion. “Come again?”

“I said,” Craig took a deep breath, going a bit red, “Do you know what being twitterpated feels like?”

“Oh,” Tweek said, understanding him this time. “I, uh...Mama explained it to me once. She said it’s just like how the movie describes it. That when you, er, see someone you really like, you...you...uh….”

“Go on,” Craig coaxed him, not quite sure what direction this conversation was going in. 

“You get all weird.” Tweek blurted out, trembling, “Y-you feel all dizzy and weak a-and then you feel as light as a feather and then you’re f-floating away…”

“Tweek,” Craig asked, his sentence clicking with something in his brain, “Are you saying that you’ve been in love with someone? That you’ve been Twitterpated before?”

“I, uh-”

But before Tweek could finish, there was the oh so familiar sound of a car horn coming from outside.

“Igottagobye!” Tweek said this all in a rush as he grabbed his goodie bag and ran away in a blur of gold, the door slamming behind him. Craig heard the car’s engine whirring to life and then it was gone.

Tweek was gone. His fifth birthday party was over. 

“Craig?” Craig turned around to see his mother standing in the doorway, wearing a pink bathrobe with her hands resting on her huge belly. “If everyone’s gone, come upstairs and get ready for bed. I’ll be there soon to tuck you in and read a story if you’d like.”

“‘Kay,” Craig said absentmindedly, walking past her to go upstairs. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and then changed into the clean pajamas that his mother had set out for him. They were brand new and silky soft, covered in silver stars and planets in the solar system. They had been a birthday gift from his grandmother. 

When he entered his bedroom, he ran over to Stripe’s cage to give him one last round of petting, and then chose a book from his bookshelf, climbing into bed just as his mother walked in.

“Ready for your bedtime story dear?” she asked him, sitting in the chair they kept next to his bed. Since she had gotten pregnant, there was no room for Craig to sit in her lap anymore, so she ended up reading while he was curled up in bed nearby, close enough to look at the pictures. 

“Yeah Mommy,” Craig told her, handing over the book he had chosen. It was one of his favorites, an exciting story about space explorers, but he couldn’t pay attention to it. Something else was on his mind.

“Did you have a good birthday dear?” His mother asked him when she was finished with the story. 

“I did,” Craig told her, rubbing his eyes and snuggling down deeper under the covers. “We had a lot of fun, Clyde, Token, Tweek and me.”

“You mean I,” his mother corrected, though she looked mischievous as she said that. She ruffled his black hair through her fingers and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Birthday sweetheart, we love you.”

“Love you too Mommy…” Craig murmured sleepily as she switched on his starry projector night light, turning out his normal light as she left his bedroom. 

Despite being exhausted, Craig found that he couldn’t fall asleep. He ended up staring up at the ceiling, watching the stars and planets that the projector cast spin and sway on his white ceiling. He thought about back to his conversation with Tweek, shortly before he had left. The stuff about the Twitterpated actions in the movie that reflected with love in the real world. Tweek had said that he had been Twitterpated before, or had at least implied it to Craig. To whom he felt that way towards, Craig wasn’t so sure.

But now that he knew what being Twitterpated meant, he knew that potentially, he was Twitterpated with Tweek.

The thought of this made his heart tense up in his chest

"Uh oh..."


	5. Baby Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big changes have happened-Ruby is now officially here! And as a bonus we get to hear the story behind Craig's adoption.  
> -The adoption story ISN'T canon and I don't want it to be treated as such, but I did enjoy writing it and I hope it comes off as accurate. I made sure to research adoption from Peru the best I could  
> -I was Craig's age here when my own baby sister was born so writing this made me really nostalgic :')  
> -Ruby's finger oh my gosh I laughed so hard when I was writing it. It was inspired by a picture of a baby I saw once :D  
> -And I love glow in the dark stars okay? I had some on my ceiling when I was six.
> 
> Enjoy guys! ^^

A lot of changes happen in Craig’s life in February, too many to count and too many to let his mind wander back to the concept of love and Twitterpated things towards Tweek. The first major one was Clyde running up to him on the playground during outdoor playtime, saying that his family was moving into the house next door to his. 

“We can play together everyday!” Clyde squealed in excitement, practically skipping off the ground in his elation and splashing slush on Craig’s coat. “No more asking Mommy to drive me to your house!” 

“That’s awesome!” Craig mused, wiping off the slush, “We can even have sleepovers now!”

“Yeah!” Clyde agreed, flapping his hands in delight, nearly hitting a passing Kyle in the face. “I’ve never had one before!”

“Well me neither! You can be the first person I sleep over with!”

In the end, the sleepover stuff didn’t go as well as they expected. They had fun making popcorn, watching movies, and telling each other embarrassing gossip about their classmates. But when it was time for bed, Clyde realized that he was terribly homesick and started crying for his mother. She ended up fetching him in the middle of the night and walked him back home, still in tears. Craig was a bit disappointed but also relieved. When they had tried to sleep, he found that Clyde snored like a jackhammer and it hurt his ears. Also, he had felt bad that Clyde had been confined to a sleeping bag while he still had his bed. 

The second major event was the tragedy of Miss Claridge catching on fire. Craig wasn’t there when it happened, home on account of the same stomach bug that had sent Tweek home a few weeks before (He had come down with it during the weekend so there was no vomiting in class), but he was nonetheless shaken up. He was, however, relieved to hear that she had survived (although she was horribly disfigured) and that the bully who had started the fire was none other than Trent Boyett, whom he had hated and was very glad to see get arrested. Trent had once given Craig a black eye for not getting out of his way fast enough on the playground and Craig had never forgiven him. When he came back, he did notice that Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Butters, and Kenny kept looking at each other nervously, making him wonder if they had been a part of it too. However, since there was little evidence to prove it (He had been absent after all), he didn’t go up and ask them. Throughout the rest of the school year, the kids had various substitutes, although none stayed very long or were as patient with Tweek and Craig’s difficulties as Miss Claridge had been. 

The third major event ended up being the most life changing of all for Craig: the birth of his baby sister, Ruby Marie Tucker. 

“Isn’t this so exciting?” Clyde exclaimed, on the floor squealing. “You’re gonna be a big brother! Wow!”

“Yeah…” Craig murmured, tugging at a loose thread in the carpet. He was still shell shocked from when he caught sight of his mother kneeling on the floor two hours earlier, surrounded by water and clutching her huge stomach in pain. He yelled for his father and he had rushed to get her to the hospital, saying that the baby clearly wanted out earlier than they had expected. Clyde and his mother had come over to babysit him while his parents were at Hell’s Pass hospital. Well, it was more Clyde’s mother than anyone else. Clyde had just tagged along with the intention of getting Craig hyped up for his last few hours of being an only child. He was trying to get Craig to play board games and watch movies with him, but Craig wasn’t interested and appeared more distant and distracted than usual. 

Craig hadn’t understood what his mother had meant when she said that he was going to be a big brother at first. But since he had been in preschool for a few months and had turned five, he was much more aware of the world around him. And since becoming more aware, he knew that eventually, his mother was going to have a baby and he would never been an only child ever again. 

“You hoping for a baby sister or a baby brother?” Clyde asked him, flicking around the playing cards from their earlier game of Candyland. 

“Baby brother.” Craig made a face “Girls are stinky and weird.”

“Not all girls are so bad.” Clyde insisted.

“You’re just saying that because of Bebe.” Craig said. Bebe was the new girl in their class, with curly blonde hair and cute little dresses that looked fresh out of a fashion magazine. Clyde was smitten with her and kept skipping out on games with the others to try and “woo” her. Craig had gotten bored of Clyde’s actions fast and was usually telling him to cut it out, which Clyde ignored. 

“I think he’s Twitterpated.” Token had said one day as they watched him try and give Bebe a bouquet of flowers he had picked from the school garden. Bebe just sniffed at him and went back to having a tea party with Annie and Wendy. 

“Probably,” Craig had agreed, “If I ever act like that around someone, please punch me.”

“Will do,” Token laughed, clapping Craig on the back so hard he face planted into the rug. Token laughed even harder when Craig weakly raised his middle finger up at him from the floor. Tweek helped him up before there was any further trouble and no more was said on the subject. 

The phone rang, sending Craig back to the present and Clyde jumping up, rushing over as he watched his mother answer it.

“Did she have the baby?” Clyde practically shouted. Craig came over only just in case it was his mother calling. He really hated talking on the phone, but he did want to find out if she was okay or not. 

“Give me a second Clyde,” Mrs. Donovan scolded him, holding it to her ear. “Yes? Oh hi Thomas! How are things going over there?”

Craig watched her expression change to one consisting of all smiles. “Oh! That’s wonderful! I’ll put Craig on right away!”

And before Craig could think about running away, the phone was shoved into his hands, forcing him to talk to his father.

“Hi Daddy,” Craig said forcefully. He really hated phones, it was never the same as talking to someone in person. 

“Hi Craigfer,” his father replied, using his own nickname that he had come up for Craig back when he was two. “Congrats buddy! You have a baby sister!”

“A sister?” Craig asked in disbelief.  
“Yes, a baby sister,” His father seemed to have not noticed his son’s disappointment in his excitement. “She’s healthy, six pounds two ounces, and we named her Ruby!”

“That’s great,” Craig told him, glad that phones didn’t show faces because he felt very upset at the moment and it probably showed. 

“I’ll be home tomorrow champ,” Craig’s father told him, “You can meet her then. For now, be good and mind Mrs. Donovan, okay?”

“Okay,”

“Bye then big brother. We’ll call you again before you go to bed, alright?”

“Okay, bye Daddy.”

Craig handed the phone back to Mrs. Donovan and sat down on the couch, looking dejected. 

“A baby sister huh?” Clyde asked him, leaning over the armrest. “That’s awesome dude! Congrats!”

“Mmph,” Craig tugged his chullo hat over his face and groaned, flopping over with his socked feet in the air. He had grown into his hat somewhat, but it was still big on him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Clyde asked. Craig couldn’t see him, but he bet that he looked rather confused. “You should be happy about it! The Craig Tucker I know would be happy about his family getting bigger!”

“Well you clearly know the wrong Craig Tucker then,” Craig mumbled, hat still over his eyes. 

“Say...umm…” Clyde pried the hat back, revealing Craig’s scowling blue eyes. “I meant to ask you this AGES ago, but why do you look so different from your parents?”

“What do you mean by that?” Craig asked him, looking offended.

“Um, well, you’re not blonde like your mommy and your daddy has red hair. And neither of them have brown skin like you do.” 

“Oh.” Craig sat up, adjusting his hat so that it sat on his head better. “I’m adopted, that’s why.”

“What’s that?” Clyde asked him. Craig looked at him like “are you for real right now,” but then he realized that Clyde honestly didn’t know, so he sighed and decided to tell him about it.

“It’s when your birth mommy and daddy can’t take care of you,” Craig began to explain. “When that happens, you get put up for adoption and a new mommy and daddy can chose you and take you home, to be their baby.”

“So that’s why you look so different?” Clyde asked. Craig nodded and played with the strings of his hat. He hoped that Clyde would shut up now, but unfortunately, he was still curious. 

“Why’d your parents decide to adopt you?” Clyde wanted to know.

“I’m not sure why actually,” Craig admitted, leaning back on the couch. “I never asked.”

“Do it tomorrow then,” Clyde urged him. “You can ask your dad while you’re on your way to the hospital to see your baby sister!” 

“But-”

“Do it or I’m never talking to you again,” Clyde threatened, pouting. His mother heard that and looked up from the Kraft mac and cheese she was making to frowned at him.

“Okay okay, I’ll do it, to shut you up.” Craig sighed as they sat down at the kitchen table to eat their lunch.

“Knew I could force ya,” Clyde grinned as his mother spooned macaroni into their bowls.

Craig’s father came home early the next morning. It was a Saturday, so there was no preschool to rush off to. Clyde had stayed overnight with his mother so he and Craig were sitting at the kitchen table eating coco pops when he walked in. 

“After I shower, we’ll go over to the hospital, okay Craig?” Mr. Tucker asked his son. Craig nodded, his mouth full of cereal leaving him unable to talk. 

“I’m going to Token’s house when you leave,” Clyde told him, dumping a second helping of cereal into the Red Racer bowl that Craig was letting him borrow. “Tell me all about her when you get back, okay?”

“Sure,” Craig said in a bored voice, picking up his empty bowl and bringing it over to the sink, the way his mother had taught him. 

An hour later, Craig was dressed, his hair was brushed by courtesy of Mrs. Donovan (He wiggled a lot so it ended up sticking up funny) and his father was out of the shower and in clean clothes. His father buckled Craig into his car seat and they set out for the hospital. Craig could see a baby car seat set up already and he wondered why it was facing backwards. 

Craig loved his father, but he was a Mama’s boy at heart so he didn’t feel as close to him. Times like these were ones in which he didn’t know what to say, but thanks to Clyde, he did have something to talk about. 

“Hey Daddy?’ Craig asked, staring out the window at the passing houses. 

“Yeah bud?”

“Why did you and Mommy adopt me?” 

“Oh, well….” Craig could see his father scratching his scalp through the rear mirror. “A few years ago, your mother and I wanted to start a family, but for some reason, it just wasn’t happening.”

“Why’s that?” Craig asked. 

“We weren’t sure why, so we went to the doctors,” Craig’s father continued. “It was during those appointments that we learned your mother had a very low chance of having a baby naturally. It was heartbreaking for us, but we were determined to raise a child, so we began to look into adoption.”

“And that’s how you found out about me?” Craig asked, leaning forward in his car seat.

“Yes, exactly.” His father said. “We were looking into adopting a baby, not from anywhere in particular, and it was during then that we were matched with a couple from Peru, who was about to have a baby, but were unable to raise it themselves.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure why,” Craig’s father admitted to his son. “Your mother and I talked about it and we settled on that maybe they had been too young to take care of you, or already had children of their own and couldn’t handle another. We never met them in the end because they surrendered you to a children’s home after you were born. But either way, it happened before you were even born, so we had to wait before we could officially bring you home. We had to prove that we’d be good parents to you” 

“What’d you have to do?” Craig asked. He knew he was pouring in on the questions, but he couldn’t help it. He really wanted to know about his adoption to tell Clyde about it, and maybe Token and Tweek too. 

“Well, we sent in forms explaining our backgrounds,” Mr. Tucker explained to him. “After they got approved, we were sent even more forms to sign and then we had to send those back and wait.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Information about you of course.” Mr. Tucker stopped at a red light to lean over and ruffle Craig’s hair affectionately. “All the time and pain and frustration that we felt during the process felt worth it when we were finally sent a picture of you! It took almost a year to complete, but by the time it was complete, we knew it would be time to bring you home soon.” 

“How old was I then?” Craig asked. They were on the edge of South Park now, passing the trees and mountains that surrounded the hospital. 

“You were born during the process, so I’d say eight months?” His father guessed. “Your mother knows it better than I do. She was practically counting off the days until we could come to Peru and bring you home, marking them on the calendar.” 

Craig thought back to how his mother was during her pregnancy with Ruby, how she counted off the days on her bird patterned calendar until she was due (missing a few weeks since Ruby arrived early) Knowing that she had done the same for him, even though he wasn’t her biological child, made his heart swell with pride and love for her. 

“Anyway,” Mr. Tucker continued, “We finally got the all clear and came to Peru to get you. We spent a week there to finalize the adoption and then brought you home to South Park, where you’ve lived ever since. The day we legally changed your name to Craig Thomas Tucker was your Gotcha Day-the day you became a full fledged US citizen.”

“Was I worth the trouble?” Craig said, almost whispering. He was worried that if because his parents had a biological child now, he was worth less to them. He knew he was a troublesome kid, and also having special needs in the form of his Asperger’s Syndrome made things a thousand times worse. 

Mr. Tucker was quiet for a few minutes, concentrating on finding a spot in the hospital parking lot and parking safely. But when he stopped and open the door to unbuckle Craig, he was smiling.

“Trust me Craigfer, you were worth everything we had to go through to get you.”

The hospital wasn’t noisy and was very white and squeaky clean, Craig found. He had never been to one before, having been a relatively healthy kid all his life. He had only gotten coughs, colds, and the occasional virus or stomach bug, all of which could be treated at the local clinic in town (ironically, it was the one where he had met Tweek at) Craig and his father took a quick stop at the gift shop to pick up flowers for Craig’s mother and a stuffed bunny for Ruby. Then they made a detour to the bathroom when Craig complained that he needed to pee. Craig usually hated public bathrooms, but he was desperate enough to use this one. 

“You ready now?” His father asked as he helped Craig with his hand washing. Craig, who was humming “happy birthday” under his breath to make sure he was washing long enough, nodded and turned the faucet off after he finished the song. 

“Good, now let’s go see your mother and sister.”

The two of them took the elevator upstairs and walked through the quiet hallway, their footsteps loud and echoing off the walls. Craig felt anxious when he watched a nurse pass by with a cart full of scary looking equipment and clung to his father’s leg. 

“Is that going to Mommy?” He whispered, hoping that he would never end up in a hospital ever again.

“No Craig, it’s not, don’t worry,” his father assured him, squeezing his hand. They kept on walking until they stopped outside a room with a “it’s a girl!” picture on the door, pink with teddy bears and a stork.

“Honey, we’re here!” Mr. Tucker opened the door and ushered Craig inside ahead of him. 

Mrs. Tucker was laying in bed, wearing a white hospital gown with her long blonde hair strewn about on her pillow. Craig rushed over to her and hugged her arm tightly, nearly crying with relief to see her alive and well.

“I see you missed me dear,” his mother laughed, stroking his cheek with her free hand. 

“I sure did,” Craig admitted, a tear leaking free and falling down his cheek. His mother saw that and wiped it away with the pad of her thumb.

“How’s Ruby doing?” Craig’s father asked, putting the flowers in an empty vase.

“She’s doing wonderfully,” Craig’s mother beamed and it was then that Craig finally caught sight of the plastic bassinet that contained his baby sister. In his rush to hug his mother, he had overlooked it.

“Want a better look honey?” She asked as Craig tried to go up on his tiptoes for a better look. She patted his shoulder to make him go back down and lifted Ruby, who was wrapped in a pale pink baby blanket, out of the bassinet, so that Craig could get a good look at her.

Craig hadn’t seen that many babies in his life admittedly. Token and Tweek were the only children at their houses and Clyde was the baby of his family, having an older sister named Claire. Any other babies he had seen had been the little siblings of other children in his class or the offspring of various strangers he passed by. He hadn’t liked any of them. They screamed too loudly and smelled awful. Because of that, he wasn’t sure he would like Ruby.

“You can hold her if you’d like,” his mother said, shifting her weight so that there was more room. Craig nodded in agreement and allowed his father to help him up. Once he was on the bed, his mother lowered Ruby into his arms, carefully instructing him to stay still and support her head.

“Wow,” was all Craig could say when he got a good look at her.

Despite not having seen many other baby to compare, he thought Ruby was really cute. She had a little face, a button nose, and there were tufts of gingery red hair poking out from underneath the blanket folds. It was clear that she had inherited her father’s genes in the hair department. When she opened her eyes, they were grayish blue, like her mother’s. 

“She’s a Tucker all right,” his Dad commented when he saw Craig stroking her hair with his fingers. “Not many families in the world have a line where the kids end up being redheads at least once each generation!”

Craig was about to say something about how he technically didn’t count since he was adopted when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Ruby had shifted over a bit, her tiny hands and fingers moving around as she made herself comfortable in his arms. When they stopped, Craig noticed that her middle finger was pointed out, kind of like she was-

“Okay young lady, that’s enough!” Mr. Tucker pretended to scold, while Craig and his mother laughed so hard they doubled up. Ruby was clearly a born Tucker from day one of her life. 

Craig and his father didn’t arrive home until late in the afternoon. When they walked in through the door, they were greeted by loud cheering and shouting from the four children that were sitting at the dining room table.

“Surprise!” Clyde, Token, Tweek, and Red Tucker yelled while Craig stared at them, his mouth hanging open. The dining room was decorated with blue balloons and tinfoil stars. On the table, he could see a small mound of presents and cards, which he guessed much be for him.

“What’s all this for?” Craig asked them, sitting down in a vacant seat, grinning a little. 

“It’s a surprise congrats on being a big brother party!” Token explained. “It was Clyde’s idea, that’s why he came over to my house today, so we could plan it.”

“You were looking down and I felt bad about it.” Clyde piped up. “But it’s not like it’s a pity party or anything! We’re happy for you!”

“Yeah yeah!” Tweek agreed. He picked up a tinfoil crown that Craig hadn’t seen coming in and placed it on his head. It didn’t fit him too well, but he was smiling in gratitude anyway at Tweek, at all his friends. 

“And I got dragged in because my dad wanted to congratulate your dad.” Red explained. She was a rough and tumble girl, a bit too noisy and touchy for Craig’s taste, but he did enjoy her company once in awhile. She sported the famous Tucker red hair, tied back into a ponytail. 

“Thank you guys so much.” Craig told them in earnest. Even if they hadn’t brought any presents with them or had decorated his dining room, he would still be happy with their company. 

“What are you waiting for?” Clyde said, “Open your gifts!”

Craig got a picture book on space guinea pigs from Clyde, a box of his favorite butterscotch taffy from Token, and a packet of watermelon gum from Red. He saved Tweek’s gift for last, like he had on his birthday.

“I-I had so much fun picking it out.” Tweek admitted shyly, his hands in his lap. Craig was distracted enough by that alone to take his sweet time opening up Tweek’s carefully wrapped present. When he finally tore away the last of the paper, they all ooohed and ahhed.

“Glow in the dark ceiling stars!” Clyde exclaimed, his eyes wide. “I always wanted some of those! You lucky dog!”

“Thank you so much Tweek,” Craig could only whisper, clutching the bag that contained them close to his chest. “I’ll get Daddy to help me put them up later.”

“That’s great! I’m so glad you like them,” Tweek was all pink faced and Craig suddenly found that he looked really nice like this, all bashful and pleased by a simple thank you. 

The rest of the big brother party was spent in Craig’s room, where they built an obstacle course for Stripe out of paper towel tubes and then they all played spacemen together. The floor was the moon and Craig’s bed was their spaceship, with Stripe as the baby alien they were trying to take back to his parents. 

A few hours later, the party winded down and Red and Token went home, escorted by their fathers. Clyde and Tweek stayed for a dinner of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, cooked by Mrs. Donovan. She and Clyde left for next door after the dishes were washed, promising to help them out as long as they needed it. Their departure once again, left Craig and Tweek alone by themselves.

“Congrats again, big brother.” Tweek patted Craig’s shoulder, careful not to get too close to him. That was one reason Craig really liked Tweek’s company: he was respectful of other’s personal space and their needs.

But tonight, Craig was ready to try something new.

“Hey Tweek?” Craig was playing with his hat string again, doing what his therapist called “stimming” 

“Y-yeah Craig?”

“You can sit closer if you’d like.”

“B-but you said-” Tweek began, opening his mouth for more protesting.

“I’d like to get used to it.” Craig admitted, dropping his strings and trying to look Tweek in the eye. “The whole sitting close to someone, looking them in the eyes thing.”

“Well...um...sure then.” Tweek gave in and scooted closer. When their shoulders bumped together, Tweek squeaked and fell backwards onto the couch cushions in alarm. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Craig assured him, “I’m not a bomb or anything. I’m just a bit...umm…”

“Sensitive?” Tweek suggested, sitting back up.

“Yeah, that’s the word.”

Craig took the chance to stare into Tweek’s green eyes. The more he looked at the them, the more he noticed just how wide and pretty they were, how they were such a nice shade of mossy green with plenty of shine and long lashes, like a baby doll. Craig had always been too freaked out by people staring at him to appreciate just how nice it was to be able to stare back. Now that he knew, he vowed to himself to work harder at his eye contact. 

“Um, Craig? Is there something on my face?”

“Oh,” Craig broke the eye contact and scooted backwards on the couch, “No, there’s nothing-”

But then he saw his chance. Tweek had a little bit of mashed potato stuck to his cheek, a remnant from dinner. 

“Oh wait, never mind.” Craig backtracked. He leaned in, his face getting closer to Tweek’s cheek. He could count the freckles there, all strewn about like the milky way, a beautiful disorder. 

“You missed something here.”

And he planted a kiss on Tweek’s cheek. 

Craig was surprised to find how soft his cheek was. It felt like Ruby’s cheek, when he had kissed her just before going home with his father. He couldn’t tell from his angle if Tweek liked it or not, but he did notice that his near constant twitching and trembling slowed down the longer he left his lips there, and he could feel Tweek’s eyelashes tickling his own skin. Normally, that sort of thing would really bother him, but for once, he was willing to ignore it. 

He finally pulled away when he heard a knock at the door. Tweek looked up and saw his mother waving at him through the side window. Craig had pulled away just in time, so she hadn’t seen the kiss. 

“I uh…” Tweek was pink faced and sounded breathless. “I gotta go now...bye Craig…”

“Bye…” Craig’s voice trailed, watching Tweek head out the door and meet his mother. Once he was gone, Craig picked up the bag of glow in the dark stars that Tweek had given him and walked over to his father, who was scrubbing the kitchen stove.

“Daddy?” Craig asked.

“Yes bud?” His father turned to him and saw the bag in his hands. “You want me to help you put those up tonight?”

 

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Well…” His father’s eyes trailed over to look at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. “Yes, we do have some time tonight. Just go fetch the sticky tack from the junk drawer and I’ll be right up, okay?”

Craig nodded and ran over to the drawer his father was mentioning. He found the tack and raced upstairs to his bedroom, pulling a book down from his shelf. It was one all about stars and constellations, and while he still couldn’t read, his mother had repeated the names to him so often he had committed them to memory. 

His father came upstairs a few minutes later like he had promised. Craig showed him where the stars were to go and his father copied the constellations from the book under Craig’s watchful eye. His father was so tall, he didn’t need a stepladder or anything. Craig was oddly quiet during the procedure, mostly just pointing or nodding when his father asked him questions about the stars. That made him concerned.

“Craig, are you alright?” Mr. Tucker asked his son as he flipped through his book for a picture of the constellation Orion. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Craig insisted, finding the picture and showing it to him “Like this, okay?”

“Alright son, but,” his father kneeled down and faced him, looking earnest. “If there’s anything you want to tell me about later, you can throw it at me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Craig mimicked. He touched his cheek, the same side as the one he had planted his kiss to Tweek on, and felt it burning, like fire, under his fingertips. 

They finished the stars a half hour later. Craig changed into his pajamas and crawled under the covers. When his father switched off the lights, the stars cast a greenish glow around the room.

“Woah…” Craig breathed, staring up at them. This was like his starry night light projector, only much more natural somehow. 

“They do look mighty nice,” he heard his father comment from the doorway. He switched the light back on for a second to make his way over to Craig’s bed to give him a goodnight kiss.

“Sleep well there big brother,” he murmured.

“Night Daddy…” Craig whispered as his father turned off the light once more and tiptoed away.

Craig faced the ceiling, his eyes prickling with sleepiness from his long day of activity. When sleep came to him, his dreams were a combination of squealing babies, glowing stars, and the greenish hue that made up the color of Tweek’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayeee one last note, don't worry about the kiss too much guys, it was a VERY innocent one :') Craig and Tweek don't even know about sex yet so it's all good.


	6. Furry Baked Potatoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayeee thanks for being patient guys! This chapter took longer because I went back to school, hit a small writer's block, and also got a new tablet so I've been drawing more then I've been writing. I'll be getting back on the story the best I can from here!
> 
> -Sorry of it sounds like it's going everywhere. That's what writer's block does to ya. This is more of a filer chapter then anything else, to help develop Tweek and Craig's friendship at this age.  
> -Watership Down and Ringing Bell are real movies, both made in 1978. They're actually both INCREDIBLY messed up stories and it's no wonder that Tweek and Craig got traumatized :'D  
> -Craig's clothing experiences are based on my own. I hate hate clothes shopping and I hate shoes too. The story of Craig taking off his clothes in the snow is also a thing that happened to me when I was little :'D  
> -The stimming stuff was something I got into when I was writing it. I'm passionate about "aspie speak" so it was just good to talk about it!  
> -And yes petting animals does make a good stim. I pet my cats to stim :'D
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3

Craig’s kiss with Tweek was something that weighed heavily on his little mind for the new few days. It was awkward going back to preschool and then getting partnered with Tweek for their art project (Making macaroni necklaces) but Tweek seemed to be cheerful, not mentioning what had happened. He neither ignored Craig or treated him any differently from before, which made Craig relieved and also a bit worried, wondering if his efforts were worth it. However, he pushed this aside and focused on having fun with Tweek again, munching on the dry pasta with him and flicking it at Token and Clyde, who sat across from them as they ‘worked”. This started a noodle war and the four of them ended up in the time out corner for ten minutes as a result. 

Ruby came home from the hospital five days after her birth. Adjusting to having a new baby in the house took a terrible toll on both Craig and his parents. Ruby was a good baby, but also very fussy and loud when she was tired or hungry. She kept her parents up for hours on end each night, keeping odd hours, and Craig couldn’t sleep well either, trying to muffle her cries with his pillow over his ears with little success.

Craig was right to worry about the changes in terms of noise in the house-and also smell. Ruby was loud enough to make listening to her horribly painful to his ears, and when she had a dirty diaper-well, Craig got out fast and ran for Clyde’s house until the storm passed and the house was aired out. 

Mrs. Donovan came over a lot to clean and cook, refusing pay when Craig’s parents offered it, but it was still rough, the first few months. It got so bad at one point that Craig’s mother once came home from grocery shopping in tears, which in turn made Craig cry and have a meltdown, then Ruby started wailing, and then when Mr. Tucker came home and saw his bawling family, it made him weep too. 

But as the months passed, things got better. Ruby began to sleep through the night and keep regular nap times. Mr and Mrs. Tucker weren’t as stressed out and Craig found that Ruby was screaming less each day, although there was nothing that could be done about poopy diaper until she was older. By the time May hit, she was three months old and a happy, adorable baby. Her gray eyes would light up every time Craig walked into the room and he loved to dangle her toys in front of her to listen to her babble and coo. He also helped keep her entertained by playing peek a boo and patty-cake with her. 

May was also the time that preschool ended. The summer heat arrived a few weeks later and Craig and his friends spent as much time as they could together, not knowing what Kindergarten would have in store for them. Craig had ended up loving preschool and he cried on the last day with Clyde, but he was also happy to have more time in the day to play.

Summer was a good time for all of them. That summer, Craig learned how to swim without water wings at the local pool (the water had freaked him at first, but he got used to it fast) once he mastered it, he spent at least once a week swimming with Token and Clyde while Tweek looked on. Tweek was too scared to try the water, but Craig eventually coaxed him to at least dangle his feet over the edge and watch them, so that he wouldn’t feel as left out. That ended up working well and sometimes Tweek would kick water in their faces when they passed by, making the unfortunate victim cough and splutter at the chlorine while Tweek laughed, his green eyes sparkling mischievously in a way that Craig adored. 

When they weren’t swimming or Craig wasn’t at therapy (it didn’t stop during the summer), they were running around in the sprinklers in Craig’s backyard, licking homemade popsicles on Clyde’s doorstep, or playing pretend at Tweek’s house, where his parents blasted the air conditioning like a cool air shower on the hottest days. 

Next to Token’s enormous house that seemed to have everything, Craig really enjoyed hanging out at Tweek’s. His parents were constantly making coffee so the whole house smelled of it, rich and relaxing. It had overwhelmed Craig at first but he had since gotten used to it. The couch was floral patterned and soft and it was their favorite trampoline, somehow not breaking despite their frantic bouncing. Tweek also had the second best movie selection after Token, full of Disney classics and older animated movies Craig had never heard of, but ended up adoring when he watched them with Tweek. Some of these were much more disturbing than anyone expected them to be, such as the night that Craig suggested to Tweek that they watch the only movie he hadn’t seen in his house (Watership Down) Tweek hadn’t seen it either so he agreed.

It was a bad idea in retrospect for two five year olds who were already a bit jumpy. It was just Craig with Tweek that night (He was sleeping over) so they clung to each other, screaming their heads off as they watched the animated rabbits on the screen massacre each other. Neither of them could sleep well that night and when they did finally drift off, they woke up clinging to each other in Tweek’s bed, tucked cozily underneath his frog patterned coverlet. 

“We are never watching that again,” were the first words that came out of Tweek’s mouth when he woke up. And they never did. They didn’t learn their lesson though when they found Ringing Bell in Tweek’s basement and went through the same experience all over again. Oh had that Sanrio logo been misleading. 

The summer passed by much too quickly for Craig’s liking. Before he knew it, only a week remained until the first day of Kindergarten. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Especially when he found out he would be there all day long, from morning until the afternoon. 

“Why’s that a problem?” His mother asked him when he complained, holding a wiggling Ruby in one arm. “I thought you liked school!”

“I do, but I was only there for a little bit each day,” Craig tried to explain to her.“Now I’ll be there all day and it makes me nervous thinking about it.”

“Honey, everyone has to spend longer hours at school and work when they’re older.” Mrs. Tucker replied, putting Ruby down in her playpen so that she could start dinner. “It’s part of growing up!”

“I know, I know,” Craig said, feeling more anxious than before bring it up. “But I still don’t wanna go!”

“Craig Thomas Tucker,” his mother turned around to look at him in the eye, making him wince. “You are going to Kindergarten whether you like it or not! You need your education young man!”

“Okay Mommy…” Craig meekly replied, wandering over to play with Ruby, who was throwing toys out of her playpen with malice, clearly determined to break something before the day was through. 

Craig wasn’t the only one who was complaining about kindergarten: Clyde was too.

“We’re actually gonna have to WORK!” He whinned, tossing his sticky popsicle stick onto the ground in front of his house. 

“Clyde, don’t litter!” Token scolded him. The four of them were sitting on Clyde’s doorstep again, licking the last popsicles of summer. 

“I don’t care, it’s my front yard,” Clyde grumbled.

“Personally, I-I’m excited for kindergarten.” Tweek piped up. There was cherry popsicle juice running down his hand. “We’ll finally learn to read! I hope….”

“Yeah, that sure would be nice,” Token agreed. “Then I could read signs and not wait for Momma to read me stories when I want to read a book.”

“That actually would be a good thing.” Craig agreed. He still wasn’t all for Kindergarten, but his mother had been much too busy to read to him these days and his father didn’t do as good a job. He didn’t make all the funny voices and sound effects that his mother made while reading. It would be much more convenient if he could just grab a book and read from it, not just look at the pictures and wait for someone else to tell him what the words were saying. 

“And we’ll learn to count!” Tweek said. “Nnngh, that sounds hard though.”

“Oh god!” Clyde looked like he wanted to puke. “Mommy tried to teach me how during the summer to get a good start on my kindergarten stuff and it was horrible! I recommend avoiding it.”

“Momma said we need to learn math to survive in the real world though,” Token sighed. 

“Fuck math.” Craig said, flipping off a sparrow that started pecking at the dry grass in Clyde’s front yard.

“Craiggg!” Tweek whined, tugging at Craig's t-shirt sleeve. “Don’t say stuff like that! W-we’ll all get in trouble!”

“Okay fine! Geez….” 

The four of them fell silent. The sun was setting outside, the air was warm, but not too hot. Summers in South Park were very short, so they were soaking in as much sunshine as they could before the winter snow arrived to plague them for over six months. 

“Pray that we survive math somehow.” Clyde broke the serenity.

“And reading,” Token chimed in.

“A-and whatever else we’re gonna learn in kindergarten.” Tweek added, picking at a scab on his knee. His excitement for Kindergarten seemed to have melted away like his popsicle had. 

“We’re not gonna die guys.” Craig deadpanned. 

“You never know.” Clyde replied, watching the sparrow hop over to his discarded popsicle stick and carry it away in it’s beak. 

The rest of the time before Kindergarten consisted of last minute school supply shopping. Craig bought a new backpack (This one was blue and covered in green glow in the dark stars, like the ones on his ceiling) and new art supplies. He also bought things he never needed in Preschool, such as a Red Racer lunchbox with matching thermos (He had give up sippy cups over the summer) a pencil case, and a few notebooks. Craig ended up decorating these with star and guinea pig stickers when he got home. 

Besides the school supplies, his mother made him buy new clothing. If Craig had his way, he would run around South Park butt naked, but he was a five year old boy and was fast outgrowing his old clothes. His shorts were tight and his T-shirts were way too short, exposing his brown skinned stomach if he didn’t pull them down. 

“You’re taking after your father alright.” Mrs. Tucker chuckled as she watched Craig frantically tug down his way too short shirt when she pointed it out. Mr. Tucker was one of the tallest men in South Park and even if Craig wasn’t biologically related to him, it seemed apparent that he was also going to be tall once he was grown up. He was already towering over all his friends, while he noticed that Tweek had barely grown at all. It seemed like he was destined to be the opposite of Craig: in his case, very short. 

Craig was a nightmare to go clothes shopping with. Besides finding it boring and prone to whining about it, he was also very particular to certain cuts and fits and fabrics, limiting down his options to minuscule amounts. Everything seemed to be too tight, too loose, too itchy, too soft, and when it wasn’t that, the clothing looked dumb on him and he demanded his mother to get it out of his sight.  
Shoes were just as bad, maybe even worse, with Craig having big feet for his age and a narrow heel not helping. It brought his mother back to the days when he was a toddler and she’d send him out into the snow to play, all bundled up in a snowsuit with cute little boots and red mittens. She’d have to come running out into the yard ten minutes later to console Craig, who had taken off his mittens and boots and was screaming, barefoot, in the snow. Those were trying times and they were part of the reason he hadn’t gotten out much when he was younger.

Eventually, they found enough clothing that Craig was content to wear to finally leave the store. These included three t-shirts, two sweaters, a jacket, four pairs of shorts, a pair of kids jeans, and two pairs of sneakers. They had Velcro on them because Craig still had issues tying laces, even after all the therapy he had gotten for it. 

Craig was horribly cranky after all that and flipped off the nice cashier who asked how old he was after mentioning what a sweet child he was. 

“Craig honey, NO.” His mother sighed, picking up her bags and dragging Craig out of the store. She was very thankful she had left Ruby at home with her father because she couldn’t imagine going through this with two children who were prone to fussing when they were tired. 

“Sorry Mommy,” Craig said quickly, letting go and walking ahead of her to stare at some pigeons that were pecking at some spilled french fries someone had dropped. 

“Don’t touch those Craig! You don’t know where they’ve been!” His mother yelled, rushing over to pull him away. He really could be such a handful at times.

On the last day before Kindergarten, Tweek came over for a final summer sleepover. His mother dropped him off early with all his sleepover stuff and school gear, so that he could go to school with Craig in the morning. 

“Just one more day before w-we all die,” Tweek said quietly as they sat on the floor in Craig’s bedroom, playing with Stripe. 

“Like I said, we’re not gonna die.” Craig told him, reaching over to scratch Stripe behind the ear, his favorite spot. 

“Who knows for sure though?” Tweek answered him, his mossy green eyes wide. Craig had noticed that his little blonde friend’s worrying was getting worse these days. He had always been anxious since the day Craig met him officially, but he seemed to be getting worse as time went on. Craig had observed him shaking and twitching much more and his panic attacks were getting more and more frequent, not to mention lasting longer. Craig didn’t know what was bothering him, but he was scared to ask, worried that it was an adult matter that he wouldn’t be able to help Tweek fix. 

“I do love what you and your Daddy did with the stars I gave you.” Tweek commented, laying back and looking at the ceiling. The sun was still out so the stars looked like the cheap plastic stuck on with sticky tack that they were, but they both knew how much they glimmered and glowed when the lights went out. 

“Thanks.” Craig bent down to pick up Stripe and put him in his lap. Stripe squirmed for a second, but then settled down with a little squeak, his tiny body warm against his legs.

‘Stripe sure is kinda cute...” Tweek said, eyeing him warily. 

“Wanna hold him?” Craig asked, raising an eyebrow. Tweek had been to his house several times now but had refused to touch Stripe every-time. He had muttered something about germs and getting bitten when Craig asked him. He liked animals a lot when they were either fictional or ten feet away, but any closer made him start to tremble in panic. 

“He’s clean, right?” Tweek asked, the corner of his eye twitching. 

“Brushed him last night.”

“A-and does he bite?”

“Sometimes. But only if he feels scared.”

“L-like the time you bit Miss Claridge on the leg?” Tweek giggled. Craig had told him all about it the same day he had given Tweek his card. In hindsight he realized he had made it much more badass sounding than it had been. When it was actually happening he had been scared out of this mind for Tweek, but now that he was five, he knew he had been ridiculous about the whole thing. 

“Hey, that was ONCE.” Craig laughed. He wasn’t that much like a wild animal. He held Stripe out to Tweek “Go on, pet him a bit first.”

“Nnngh…” Tweek reached out a trembling hand and gave Stripe’s head a poke. He pulled back, wide eyed, but they were wide with curiosity and amazement, not fear.

“He’s so soft!” Tweek exclaimed. “And warm. He’s like a furry baked potato.”

Craig started laughing at that comment, “I never would have ever thought to describe him that way!”

“I guess I’m the first then,” Tweek grinned that little smile that made Craig’s little heart go into overdrive and his ears turn red. 

Y-you ready to try holding him now?” Craig asked as Tweek gave Stripe another gentle poke.

“Ahh...sure…”

“Just sit still. I’ll put him in your lap.”

Tweek tensed up, trying his hardest to keep his twitching under control as Craig gently laid Stripe into his lap. Tweek looked down at Stripe, his eyes like saucers as he began to stroke him. Craig was amazed to see that Tweek’s near constant twitching had slowed down since Stripe was placed into his lap. 

“He’s even warmer in my lap,” Tweek whispered, as though worried Stripe would panic if he talked louder. “Just holding him makes me feel...uh...a bit calmer?”

“Holding him does that for me too,” Craig admitted. As he watched Tweek cradle Stripe, his fingers worked his way into his hat strings and he started twisting and twirling them through his fingers.

“Why do you do that?”

“Huh?” Craig looked up, one string still wrapped around his pinky.

“Playing with your hat like that.” Tweek specified. “W-why do you like to do that?” 

“Uhhh….because it feels good?” Craig resumed his fiddling after that statement. “My therapist called it stimming.” 

“So you like to “stim” to help you feel good?” Tweek asked, petting Stripe with one hand.

“That's right.” Craig decided that twirling wasn't enough and slipped one string into his mouth, chewing on it as Tweek looked on. He wasn't as disgusted as Craig expected him to be. “It also calms me down when I feel a meltdown coming on.”

“Do you have anymore stims?” Tweek asked. “Can you even have more than one?”

“Oh, sure you can.” Craig insisted, spitting out the string so that he could talk better. “I used to rock back and forth and I liked to make beeping noises when I was really little. Those count. And I flap my arms around when I get super excited."

“Anymore that have to do with touching things?” Tweek asked.

“Well, petting Stripe helps me calm down after a long day.” Craig explained. “I like soft fabric too, like the kind my blue jacket is made of. And hair, Mommy said I was always playing and chewing on her hair when I was super little.” 

“I see,” Tweek grinned. Craig wondered if he was picturing that in his head. Craig eyed Tweek’s fluffy golden locks and wondered how they fell to the touch.

“Say Tweek?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Do you like to stim sometimes too?” Craig asked him. “I asked Token and Clyde and they both said no. I was wondering if I wasn't alone.”

“Oh!” Tweek looked a bit startled. “Would chewing bubblegum count? Mama gives it to me at home when I'm especially shaky and it helps.”

“That would probably count.” Craig told him. He had met a kid at therapy who had done that too. “Any more?” 

“Well…” Tweek pursed his lips in concentration. “I-I like it when people hug me or play with my hair. It helps me feel more secure.” 

“I never heard of that before for stimming.” Craig admitted. He still avoided getting hugged and touched whenever he could unless it was under specific circumstances. He could tell from that and Tweek's otherwise fine eye contact that he could scratch Asperger's off his list of “things that Tweek might have that make him nervous so much.” 

“Oh….” Tweek looked crestfallen. Craig felt bad, but he didn’t know how to respond so he said nothing. 

“Say…” Craig looked out the window. The sky was a lot darker than it had been earlier, “Is it night already?”

“No, we haven’t even had dinner yet,” Tweek pointed out. He looked over at the window to see for himself and went pale “I-I think we might be getting a storm…”

“On the last day of summer? That’s lame!” Craig protested. He flipped off the offending clouds and there was an enormous rumble of thunder, complete with lightning flash, that made both of them shriek. Stripe, who was still in Tweek’s lap, jumped off and wandered over towards Craig’s desk, where he settled underneath his chair. 

“I-I think you offended God!” Tweek stammered. 

“I-I hope no!” Craig gasped, hands over his ears. He was alright with rain, but thunder and lighting were a no no for him. Especially the thunder. He didn't care how many times his mother told him it was just angels bowling in the clouds, he still didn't like it. 

“W-what are we gonna do?” Tweek shrieked, grabbing the front of Craig’s T-Shirt. “W-WE’RE GONNA DIE!”

“Tweek, calm DOWN,” Craig told him. “We’ll be all right, it’s just a passing storm…”

There was another loud clap of thunder and they both jumped.

“Ummm...let’s go under my blankets…” Craig suggested, getting up to put Stripe back into his cage.

“Why the blankets?” Tweek asked, still sitting on the floor and eyeing the window. A heavy sheet of rain was now lashing against it, the droplets casting odd shadows around the room. 

“It’s cozier like that.” Craig shut the latch on Stripe’s cage and went over to his bed. He straightened out the covers and crawled underneath them. “Oh man it’s warm under here!”

“I-I’ll get the flashlight.” Tweek picked up Craig’s flashlight and crawled underneath with him. They bonked foreheads as Tweek covered them up. 

“Whoops,” Craig giggled, taking the flashlight and switching it on. It shone brightly, illuminating the folds and creases of Craig’s Red Racer comforter. He could see Tweek now, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden brightness, rubbing his forehead from their collision. 

“Wow, it’s...cozy,” Tweek grinned shyly.

“Told ya,” Craig teased. They had made blanket forts before with Clyde and Token in Token’s living room. Token had very soft quilts and comforters that were wonderful for cuddling under and made excellent tents. Craig had always had a soft spot for blanket forts and tightly squeezed places, like the couch cushions. Back when his Asperger's was at it’s worst, he would cram into them because they felt like he was getting a hug-except that HE was the one controlling the pressure. 

“Uh, Craig?”

“Yeah Tweek?”

“I-I’m still a bit freaked out…” Tweek curled up into a ball as far away from Craig as possible. “I-I don’t like storms a lot…”

“Well neither do I, we’re in the same boat here.” Craig told him.

“We’re not in a boat though…”

“You know what I mean.”

There was silence between the two of them. The only sounds that Craig could hear were the muffled booms of thunder, the crashes of lightning, the heavy pitter patter that was the rain on the window, and the sound of their breathing. Tweek was breathing faster than he was. 

“Craig…?” Tweek asked again, his voice small.

“What’s the problem now?” Craig asked.

“I-I...um...can you pet my hair?”

“Why?” Craig asked, his eyes widening in confusion as he stared at Tweek’s fluffy golden locks. He had wanted to pet them for months and now Tweek was OFFERING it to him.

“Whenever there’s a thunderstorm at my house, Mama runs her fingers through my hair to calm me down,” Tweek explained, his cheeks pink. 

“Alright then, I’ll do it.” Craig reached out a trembling finger, much like the one Tweek had extended towards Stripe earlier, and gave Tweek’s hair a poke.

“Oh!” Tweek gasped, “C-careful!”

“Sorry…” Craig gave up on poking and ran his hand through Tweek’s locks. He couldn’t believe that Tweek was letting him pet his hair. It was just as warm and soft as he imagined it to be-like Stripe’s fur almost. It was a dream come true for Craig, to be able to interact with Tweek's hair like this. 

He wasn't aware of it, but Craig’s own anxiety about the storm began to calm down as he stroked Tweek’s hair.

“Ahh…” Tweek shut his eyes, long lashes in plain view, and sighed contentedly, “That’s it…that feels l-lovely...”

“I guess I found a new stim,” Craig smirked, now burying his nose in Tweek’s mane. He smelled nice too-like coffee and No Tears baby shampoo. 

“Mmmph…” Craig felt Tweek’s body heat getting closer to him, and then he felt Tweek’s arms wrapped around his waist as Tweek leaned on his chest, stray hairs on his head tickling Craig’s neck.

“Uh, Tweek?” Craig asked, feeling his panic rising at the physical contact. “Could you, uh…”

“Mmm, so warm…” Tweek dozed off, still clinging to Craig, and Craig didn’t have the heart to shove him away. He laid back, still stroking Tweek’s hair, and wondering if he should stop since Tweek seemed to have fallen asleep. He didn’t really want to though, if he could, Tweek’s hair was just so soft, so warm, so nice...He didn’t even mind that Tweek’s body weight was heavy on his chest, noting that for such a little kid he was a bit chunky.

“I...uh...Tweek? Can I...oh...nevermind…you won’t even notice…”

Craig pushed aside the hair that was covering Tweek’s forehead and pressed his lips there in a soft kiss. Craig’s own eyes were fluttering soon enough and he passed out, fingers still clinging to Tweek’s scalp, lips still close to Tweek’s forehead in a crooked kiss.

That was how Craig’s father found them an hour later. He called Tweek and Craig down for dinner after the storm passed, but when he didn’t get an answer, he went upstairs to find out what was wrong. It wasn't like them to ignore his calls. 

“Craig? Tweek? You boys in there?”

Mr. Tucker noticed a lump under Craig’s covers. Shaking his head in amusement, he pulled them aside and yes, there they were. They were still cuddled up together, Tweek’s arms around Craig’s waist, Craig’s right hand in Tweek’s hair and his left on Tweek’s back. His head had shifted in his sleep and he was kissing the air now, not Tweek’s forehead. 

They looked so sweet, Mr. Tucker was tempted to leave them there. But he knew that they would miss dinner if they didn’t wake up, so he keeled down to address them better.

“Hey...kiddos, wake up…”

“Hmm…?”

Tweek was the first to open his eyes. He noticed the somewhat befuddled look Mr. Tucker was giving him and he squeaked, his reaction waking up a bleary eyed Craig. 

“What the-oh yeah…” Craig rubbed his eyes with his hands. “We fell asleep…”

“S-something wrong Mr. Tucker?” Tweek asked, his eyes wide and fearful as per usual. 

“No, nothing's wrong.” Mr. Tucker told them. “It’s just that the storm has passed now and it’s dinnertime, so you two should go wash up. We’ll meet you downstairs alright?”

“Okay Daddy,” Craig mumbled, yawning. 

“Did we really fall asleep?” Tweek asked as Mr. Tucker left the room, his huge footsteps echoing in the hallway upstairs. 

“I guess we did,” Craig grinned sheepishly. “My hand was still in your hair too.”

“Oh, I KNEW something was off!” Tweek exclaimed. “I felt this soft massaging the entire time I was dreaming and I didn’t know why. I also didn’t want to wake up cause it felt so nice…”

“Well, I can pet your hair anytime if you want.” Craig said. He suddenly realized just what this was implying and clapped his hands over his mouth, turning red. “P-pretend I didn’t say that!”

“N-no! I liked it!” Tweek assured him. 

“Honestly?”

“Yes!” Tweek reached over and patted Craig on the head, which was still covered by his chullo hat. He liked to sleep in it too. “Y-you can...uh...stim with my hair anytime if you want to…”

“I’d like that.” Craig whispered, the heat rising to his ears. “I’d really like that…”

“BOYS! Get your asses down here!”

They both jumped up, alarmed by the harshness of his tone, and raced downstairs, not saying anymore on the subject on the way down, or all through dinner, just glancing at each other once in awhile at the table before blushing and turning away. 

“You kids alright there?” Mrs. Tucker asked, serving them heaping plates of spaghetti and meatballs. In her high chair, Ruby was making a mess of herself with the tomato sauce, splattering it on everything and everyone who was unfortunate enough to sit next to her. Her food was mushed down to baby suitable textures. 

“Yeah, we’re fine Mommy,” Craig told her, letting her cut one his meatballs in half so that he wouldn’t choke. 

“I’m alright too,” Tweek insisted with a mouth full of spaghetti.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full dear,” Mrs. Tucker said. She had taken Tweek under her wing the same way she had accepted everyone of Craig’s friends: as though she was their second mother. They appreciated it to an extent, putting their feet down when she began to monitor their vegetable intakes. 

Tweek swallow and fiddled with his napkin on his lap, whispering “Sorry.” Under the table, Craig nudged his foot with his own, making him smile and letting him known he was forgiven. Unfortunately, Ruby chose that time to slam her fist down on her tray and splatter Craig with an extra large glob of tomato sauce right in his face.

“Augh! Ruby!” Craig groaned, trying to clean his face with one of his mother’s nice linen napkins. 

“Ruby no!” Mrs. Tucker groaned as she surveyed the mess, “no more marinara sauce for you, young lady!” 

Mr. Tucker just mumbled something inaudible and got up, going to the kitchen to wet some paper towels for Craig.

“Don't ruin your mother’s napkins bud. Here.” Mr. Tucker rubbed the soggy paper on Craig’s soiled face, washing away the sauce in an instant. Craig hated the feeling of the paper towels, but he hated being covered in tomato sauce even more so he tolerated it. Just for the sake of getting clean at least. 

“Is there any on me too?” Tweek asked, frantically feeling his cheeks with his hands, “I-I’m right next to Craig.”

“No, you're good kiddo.” Mr. Tucker replied, not bothering to look up as he kept wiping at Craig’s face.

“Y-you didn't even look!”

“You're fine, trust me,” Craig assured him once his face was clear of any traces of sauce. 

“Whew,” Tweek whistled between his teeth and the rest of dinner was uneventful, with no mentioning of the sauce or the cuddling. When they were through and the dishes were clean, they went back upstairs to play again, refreshed from their nap and dinner. 

A few hours later, Mrs.Tucker interrupted their game of pick up sticks to tell them that it was time to get ready for bed.

“Aww Mommy.” Craig whined. “Just a few more minutes, pleaseeee? We just started!” 

“Craig, you’re only saying that because I’m beating you,” Tweek pointed out, smirking. 

“No, tomorrow is your first day of Kindergarten.” Mrs. Tucker said firmly. “I don't want you two yawning and quarreling with me or the other children on your first day!”

“We won't do that!” Craig protested, successfully picking up a stick in their game. 

“Well you never know. Come along then, clean your game up and put on your pjs.” 

They picked up the colorful sticks, Craig still grumbling under his breath the entire time, and changed into their pajamas. Craig’s consisted of a short sleeved Red Racer T-Shirt with matching shorts, while Tweek’s was just a very long white nightshirt that went well past his knobbly knees.

“It’s Daddy’s, all my others were in the wash.” Tweek explained when he noticed that Craig was staring at it as though he had never seen one before. Which in all honesty, he hadn’t. 

They brushed their teeth and Craig climbed into his bed, while Tweek spread out his green sleeping bag on the floor. Mrs. Tucker came in a few minutes later to wish them goodnight, Ruby fast asleep in her arms wearing pink footie pajamas.

“Good Night dears,” Mrs. Tucker said, kissing Craig and then Tweek on the forehead. “Your bags are packed and ready for tomorrow morning downstairs and I have your favorite cereals and sandwiches ready. Have you two chosen your school clothes?”

“Yes Mommy,”

“Yes Mrs. Tucker,”

“Good. Now have sweet dreams!” She turned off the light and left the room to put Ruby to bed. Above them, the glow in the dark stars lit up, casting their ghostly green glow around Craig’s bedroom. Craig rolled over to try and get some sleep, but then he felt something tap his shoulder.

“Uh, Craig?”

“Yeah Tweek?” Craig groaned, rolling back over to try and face what he could see of him in the dim lighting. 

“Ummm...can sleep in your bed with you again? The floor’s k-kinda hard…” Tweek bit his lip and looked away, eyes downcast, as though expecting Craig to say no.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” Craig shrugged. He hated sleeping on the floor too. 

Tweek looked delighted and crawled under the covers with Craig. Craig felt his body heat next to him and sighed, enjoying it. Usually, he would scoot away when he felt someone’s radiating heat because it would follow up with physical contact, but he knew it was Tweek casting it and he found he didn’t mind. After cuddling with him, something he had only done on rare occasions with his mother, he felt he could withstand any kind of physical touching Tweek wanted to give him. 

So when he felt Tweek’s forehead pressing against his chest, he wasn’t all that phased. It wasn’t like he could force him to move over anyway, for after that happened he fell asleep, dead weight on Craig’s shirt. Craig had his nose buried in Tweek’s hair like he had earlier and sighed, letting the scent envelop him. 

“Let’s pray we survive Kindergarten tomorrow, Tweek,” Craig whispered into his ear.

“Mmmph…” Tweek mumbled something inaudible and twitched, eyelids and eyelashes fluttering, but not opening. Craig ended up falling asleep like this, his nose in Tweek’s lovely hair and Tweek on his chest, for once in his very short life looking like he didn’t have a worry in the world to stress about, his figure sweet and still except for the occasional twitch of his eyelids as he dreamed.


	7. Rocky New Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I'm going to be totally honest and say that the main reason was the fact that I couldn't seem to decide on a good kindergarten teacher (and ended up going with Mr. Garrison for the lone fact that he taught Kindergarten in one of the older episodes)  
> -Speaking of Mr. Garrison, he was honestly really hard to write, so I hope he doesn't come off as TOO ooc.  
> -The end of this chapter marked page 50 of this story so far in my Google Docs file. Ouch. No wonder it lags so much  
> -This chapter was actually going to be even LONGER, but it was just going to be silly filler at the end so I cut it out and decided to either put it in the next chapter or later down the road in the story.  
> -Shoutout to a very gay for Stan even at age five Kyle haha. Writing that part made me crack up  
> -Also Butters and Kenny having a tea party, I just couldn't help myself. It was a cute idea. 
> 
> Anyway, I also wanted to thank you guys for helping the story reach 100+ kudos! It really means a lot, so thank you so much! ^^

“Okay boys! Smile!”

There was a camera flash and Craig blinked rapidly, reaching over to scratch an itch on his elbow before his mother could ask him to pose for another picture.

“Craig, you didn’t smile!” Mrs. Tucker groaned, making Craig pout.

It was morning now, the first day of Kindergarten had begun. Craig’s mother had woken them up bright and early, still cuddled together from the night before, and helped them get dressed, prepared their breakfast, and added final touches to their schoolbags. Now they were outside and she wanted a few pictures of them before they headed off, to give to Mrs. Tweak and to put in the family photo album along with the rest of the photos of Craig she had taken over the years.

Craig hated having his photo taken, so most of his pictures involved him frowning or pouting or looking away. Even in his baby photos he looked fretful about the whole ordeal. However, he knew deep down in his heart that today was a day he should make an exception, for Tweek was standing next to him and at the rate this was going, it meant that Tweek would end up in the family photo album too. 

So when his mother aimed the camera at the two of them again, Craig stood up a bit taller and tried to form his mouth into what he hoped was a smile. But his efforts were all for naught, for just as his mother clicked the button, he saw Tweek turn away out of the corner of his eye to watch a little bird hop across the concrete pathway. 

“Oh Tweek!” Mrs. Tucker sighed. “Lookup please dear!” 

“Sorry Mrs. Tucker,” Tweek whispered, flush forming on his freckled cheeks. Craig could tell that he wasn't fond of being photographed either. 

“Alright kids, just be good for one more shot, okay?” Mrs. Tucker looked exhausted and it wasn't even ten in the morning. “We’ll be late otherwise.” 

“Okay Mommy,”

“Yes Mrs. Tucker,”

“Hold hands you two,” Mrs. Tucker instructed. “The picture will look better if you do.”

Tweek snatched up Craig's hand before he could open his mouth to protest. They both grinned a bit cheekily when Mrs. Tucker finally snapped the photo.

“All done,” Mrs. Tucker assured them, looking down at the most recent photo she had snapped of them. “Thank you for cooperating boys.”

“Can we see the pictures?” Craig asked her. He was in no hurry to get to school, his breakfast of Lucky Charms churning in his stomach. 

“I don't see why not. Here,” Mrs. Tucker fiddled with a few buttons and kneeled down, holding the camera out to them. Craig let go of Tweek's hand and took the clunky black camera from his mother, staring down at a test picture of himself and Tweek pulling silly faces while Craig's mother was adjusting the flash levels. Craig's eyes were crossed and he had a finger stuck up his left nostril, while Tweek had his tongue sticking out and was flipping off the camera with his right middle finger, a gesture that had alarmed both Craig and his mother. Neither of them had expected Tweek to ever do something like that, even for the sake of comedy. That was something a Tucker would do, not a Tweak. 

The next picture involved a failed take of Tweek smiling sweetly at the camera as Craig scowled at his mother. The one after that seemed to have flipped their roles: Craig was attempting to smile while Tweek was pulling a deer in the headlights look, the flash making his eyes glow. Craig and Tweek both cracked up at that one.

“It looks like you have lasers shooting out of your eyes!” Craig giggled, making Tweek stare in his general vicinity to pretend to shoot him with his imaginary eye lasers. 

The one after that was the one that Craig had been itchy in. He had already been sick of the whole photo taking schetik and was ready to be over with it, so he had scowled as desperately as he could to let his mother know. The last two were the ones involving Tweek and the bird and the two of them holding hands. The bird one was rather cute, but their facial expressions in the last one were the best. 

“That’s the best one.” Tweek said, pointing at the one of them holding hands. Craig had to agree with him on that. They were both smiling in it (a bit awkwardly) and it showed off their brand new school clothes and gear rather well. Tweek was wearing a green T-shirt with a picture of a daisy on it, with yellow and green sneakers, blue denim shorts, and a brand new brown backpack. It had a special pocket on the side for his brand new frog themed coffee thermos, for like Craig, he had also given up sippy cups during the summer. Craig’s mother had brushed his hair until it shone and scrubbed his face until it was clear enough for every freckle to stand out in the light. His huge eyes were shining with excitement, but also nerves, but that wasn’t too unusual, even for a day like today. Tweek was always a bit nervous. 

Craig was dressed similarly to Tweek. He was also wearing denim shorts, but his T-shirt was blue and had a picture of Saturn on with some writing his mother told him said “I need my Space.” Craig liked the shirt a lot, but he couldn’t quite understand why his mother hadn’t stopped giggling when he had first put it on while getting dressed. He had insisted on wearing his worn out summer flipflops and his usual Chullo hat, which was growing hot from absorbing the early morning sunlight. His black hair poked out from under his hat, damp with sweat. With his dark skin and even darker blue eyes, he was quite the contrast from the very freckly, blonde, and pale skinned Tweek. But at the same time, it was a good contrast. 

“You two look adorable together!” Mrs. Tucker commented as she took the camera back. “My sweet little boys.”

“I’m not your son.” Tweek pointed out.

“You’re as good as one to me,” Mrs. Tucker smiled, ruffling his hair and making him giggle. 

From next door, Clyde ran ahead of his mother to greet them, his mother and older sister, Claire, in tow. 

“Oh hey Craig! Hi Tweek!” Clyde bounced on his heals, also wearing a brand new backpack. His was bright red and had the Red Power Ranger helmet decorated on the front pocket. “Where’s your mommy Tweek?”

“I was sleeping over at Craig’s.” Tweek explained, reaching over to grab his brand new coffee thermos and take a sip from it. 

“And you didn’t invite me? Lameeeee.” Clyde stuck his tongue out at them.

“Clyde!” Mrs. Donovan scolded, hands on her hips. “You had some last minute preparations to do and Tweek was all finished! Now apologize!”

“Sorry guys,” Clyde meekly replied, head hanging low.

“It’s fine Clyde,” Craig said. He turned to his mother and asked “Are we going soon Mommy?”

“Yes dear, just give me a minute. I need to go give your father some last minute instructions for Ruby.” With this little statement, Mrs. Tucker turned on her heel and dashed back into the house, where she could hear Ruby screaming for what Craig supposed was breakfast or her mother’s full attention.

“You kids excited about your first day of school?” Mrs. Donovan asked them.

“Not really,” Craig scrunched up his face.

“I’m scared and Craig is too, but he won’t admit that,” Tweek told Mrs. Donovan and her kids, smirking over the lid of his thermos.

“Oh shush,” Craig said, his tone much harsher than he intended it to be. 

“I was teasing,” Tweek said bluntly, looking hurt. 

“I’m scared too,” Clyde told them, trying to act as though their little scuffle didn’t happen, “but you’ve known that since two weeks ago.” 

“Clyde, you know they won’t spring math on you until first grade.” Claire told him, hands on her hips. Claire was going into fifth grade and acted like she knew everything, but she was nice otherwise.

“You never know,” Clyde said, the same way he had before back on his front steps. 

“Alright, ready to go now kiddos?” Mrs. Tucker was finished with her last minute lecturing and was slipping something into her purse. Craig thought he saw a flash of blue form paper, but it was gone before he could get a better look.

“Yes Mommy!” Craig told her, trying to put on his biggest smile, just for her. 

“Alright then!” Mrs. Donovan clapped her hands, “Wagons ho!”

The kindergartners all burst out laughing and grabbed the hands of their mothers. The only kindergartner without a mother in the crowd, Tweek, grabbed Craig’s hand instead, without prompting of any kind. 

“You could have grabbed Mommy’s other hand,” Craig pointed out, somewhat stunned by this turn of events. He hadn’t been that nice to Tweek a few minutes ago.

“I wanted to hold yours though,” Tweek whispered, all pink in the cheeks again, looking on the verge of happy giggles. 

“Oh,” was all Craig could say about that, in his usual deadpan tone. Internally, he felt like his already churning stomach was doing the flips. After what had happened last night, he was sure he was never going to look at Tweek the same way ever again. 

“Will we see each other at recess?” Craig heard Clyde asking Claire. Clyde’s family was walking behind them.

“Probably. I’ll save some fruit snacks for you to share on the playground if you want.”

“Yay!” Craig could hear the excited stamping of Clyde’s sneakers as he jumped up and down.“Thank you Claire-Bear!”

“Don’t call me that! Only Mom can do that!” 

“Well I say I can too!”

“Oh no you don’t, Clyde-Bug!”

“Hey! If I can’t call you Claire-Bear, you can’t call me Clyde-Bug!”

“Well I don’t care!”

The noisy scuffle that ensued behind them made Craig’s mother laugh, muffled by her free hand.

“What’s so funny Mommy?” Craig asked, straining his neck to watch as Claire grabbed Clyde and messed up his neatly combed brown hair, making their mother groan in frustration at her two misbehaving children.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mrs. Tucker smiled, “I was just thinking about how that will be you and Ruby one day, sharing and arguing over the little things in your lives.”

“Oh.” Craig found this hard to picture, being Claire’s age and teasing Ruby on their way to her first day of Kindergarten, despite the fact that their age gap was the same as Claire and Clyde’s. He wasn’t sure how they would get along when Ruby got older, but he hoped they wouldn’t fight too much. 

“I wish I had a sibling,” Tweek commented. “But Mama said that I was unplanned and that she doesn’t want anymore kids.”

“That’s not very nice of her to say that,” Mrs. Tucker frowned.

“But wasn’t Ruby unplanned?” Craig asked his mother.

“Yes, but she was a happy surprise,” Mrs. Tucker sighed. “It’s not like like I’m planning to tell her about that anytime soon though.” 

“M-mama said I was too.” Tweek quickly added. “S-she said I was worth everything she went through to end up with me.”

“And so was Craig, even if he was a well planned adoption.” Mrs. Tucker beamed, making Craig’s heart swell with love for his Mother. 

A few minutes later, they were outside the school building. It looked almost the same that it had during their time at preschool, except for a fresh coat of yellow paint coating the outside walls. Seeing the freshly painted elementary school made Craig anxious all over again. It was the same building, sure, but it would be an all new classroom and an all new teacher, and adding up to the fact that he would be spending at least five hours or more at this school per day was not boding well with him. He hated when things changed and this was the icing on the cake.

“It will be okay sweetheart,” Mrs. Tucker assured him, stooping down to his level to adjust his hat with Tweek looking on, still holding his hand. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”

“Fun.” Craig echoed. He wasn’t so sure about that. He felt Tweek squeeze his hand and looked at him to see that he was pale and shaky, his little hand growing clammy under Craig’s fingertips, green eyes even bigger than they usually were. 

“Well,” Mrs. Tucker looked over at two frightened charges. “It won’t all be fun and it might be a bit scary, facing something new like this, but it will be okay, I promise you two that.”

“Pinky promise?” Craig asked her, extending his pinky out with the hand he had been using to hold her’s.

“Pinky promise.” Mrs. Tucker leaned in and linked her pinky with her son. When she noticed that Tweek was watching, she motioned for him to come over and link pinkies with them. He hesitated for a moment, but then gave in, resulting in a three way pinky promise knot. Back even before Craig was fully conscious of the world around him, his earliest memories involved his mother teaching him about what a pinky promise meant.

“You can break the pinky, but you can’t break the promise,” she had told her back then, overly sensitive and severely in need of therapy son. He had to have only been two at the time and the motions behind physical touching had been painful for him, but he didn’t mind his hands or fingers touched and despite his lack of words at that age, he could still take in what others were saying, even if he was unable to respond. And somehow, after he and his mother had linked pinkies and then broken them up, the saying had still stuck with him all this time. He couldn’t remember the promise from that time, but he could still remember the saying as clear as day. 

“You ready dears?” Mrs. Tucker asked them when they broke apart. Nearby, Craig could see Mrs. Donovan and Clyde waving goodbye to Claire, who had spotted her usual friend group and was making her way over to them. 

“Yes Mommy,” Craig told her. Tweek only nodded, his little pink lips pursed, limbs still shaky. 

“Well, let’s go in and meet your teacher then.” 

“Okay.”

Mrs. Tucker led the two of them down the hallway, her hand still on Craig’s and Tweek close behind, shaking like a leaf, holding Craig’s other hand. The floor had been scrubbed clean of all the dirt and tread-marks Craig had remembered seeing on a daily basis, the lockers polished until they shown. The door to the Kindergarten classroom wasn’t even that far from their Pre School one, only about two doors down. The door was open wide with a “Welcome to Kindergarten!” Sign on the door, from what Craig would guess, seeing as he was unable to read yet. He could already hear their laughing and shrieking classmates inside. 

“You two go and find your cubbies and other friends,” Mrs. Tucker told them. “I need to go find your teacher so that I can talk to him. You do remember when I taught you how to read your name Craig, right?”

“Yes Mommy,” Craig replied dutifully, squeezing both his mother and Tweek’s hands at once. That was the only word he was able to read. 

“How will I find mine?” Tweek asked, biting at his fingernail. “I-I can’t read my own name yet ahhh!” 

“Mr. Garrison or one of the classroom aides will help you if you go up and ask.” Mrs. Tucker said, “Now enough stalling-go on in!” She gave them a small push and they went inside, still rather reluctantly and still with Tweek gripping tightly onto Craig’s hand. 

In many ways, the classroom reminded Craig a lot of their preschool one. The walls were painted to look like a sunny day in a hilly field, complete with fluffy white clouds and little boxy houses perched on the tops of the hills that made up the field. There were similar toys to what Craig had played with in preschool, but to a much lesser degree, having a designated corner for the toy cars, blocks, and play kitchen for example. There was a large shelf of picture books with a comfy looking rocking chair and pillow and the walls had charts of the alphabet, basic numbers, the days of the week, and a proper calendar, turned to the month they were attending school in at the current time (August). There was also a chalkboard, exactly like the one in their preschool classroom, complete with a wide variety of colorful chalk.  
One major difference that Craig noted, however, were the many tables and orange plastic chairs scattered about the room. They had what seemed to be name tags, but as Craig wasn’t able to read any other name but his own, he didn’t have a clue who he’d end up sitting with. He hoped deep down that he wouldn’t have to share a table with Cartman. 

“Hi Token!”

Tweek had caught sight of Token, who was putting his purple and gold backpack away in what Craig assumed was his cubby. 

“Oh hey guys!” Token greeted them cheerfully. He didn’t seem as nervous as they were, or perhaps he was hiding it really well. “Isn’t this classroom neat?”

“Yeah,” Craig said, not wanting to admit that the painted sun was giving him a headache. 

“D-do you know where my cubby is?” Tweek asked Token.

“Oh sure! It’s right next to Kenny’s.” Token pointed out a row of cubbies a bit farther down, where Craig could see Kenny putting away his backpack. It was the same holey grey one he had from the year before, but Craig was surprised to see that his red scarf was gone. It must have unraveled sometime during the summer. 

“Thanks!” Tweek finally let go of Craig’s hand and dashed over to hang up his backpack, leaving Craig and Token on their own. 

“Where’s mine then?” Craig asked.

“You’re standing in front of it.” Token pointed out Craig’s carefully written name at the top, which included his last name too. At least Mr. Garrison (That’s who Craig assumed was the teacher based on what his mother said) had decided that middle names weren’t required for school identification. 

“Oh.” Craig hung up his backpack without any further comment.

“Oh hiya Token!” Clyde had appeared and was waving at Token rather frantically, clearly excited for their little gang to reunite. 

“You’re gonna knock something over if you keep doing that.” Craig told him.

“I wasn’t talk to you Craig,” Clyde said, walking past him to hug Token. When Clyde’s back was turned, Craig flipped him off. Clyde seemed to be a bit bitter about all the time Craig had spent with Tweek since yesterday and frankly, Craig couldn’t blame him. 

“Craig! Don’t think I didn’t see that!”

Craig jumped at the volume of his mother’s tone as she went over to him, a tall man in a green shirt with glasses and thin grey hair, which was balding at the top, following close behind her. He was carrying a puppet with a red and white striped hat in a purple coat and he didn’t look all that chuffed to see a misbehaver in his classroom on day one.

“Craig, please don’t do that to anyone…” Mrs. Tucker sighed, leaning down to grab his shoulders and make him face her. He tried hard to look away, but his mother was relentless and resorted to cupping his cheeks instead. He felt his limbs shaking, a horrible trembling panic welling up inside him that felt like it would burst out at any second and he squirmed under his mother’s smothering touch to try and get away.

“This your son, Mrs. Tucker?” The grey haired man asked, peering down at him, but offering no suggestions to how Mrs. Tucker could contain Craig any more efficiently.

“Yes Mr. Garrison.” Mrs. Tucker sighed, realizing a bit late that Craig was reaching close to a meltdown level of panic. She let go of him and he sighed, tugging hard on the strings of his hat while Clyde and Token looked on, bewildered. Tweek was struggling to get his bag on the cubby hook, he was too short to hang it up properly. 

“I see….” Mr. Garrison peered down at Craig. His gaze didn’t make eye contact, which made Craig silently sigh with relief. He didn’t know how many more eyes he could handle on him today. 

“You said in his form and from our brief conversation that he suffers from Asperger’s Syndrome?” Mr. Garrison asked her, holding the blue form in the hand that didn’t have his puppet. Craig supposed that was the reason his mother brought the form with her: to show his new teacher, since it seemed to have information about his ongoing therapy and past behavior.

“Indeed, but I wouldn’t quite say “suffer” Mrs. Tucker said, frowning slightly. “It does make his life hard, but he’s a nice boy when he’s comfortable with his environment...and not flipping people off.” (She nudged Craig’s shoulder when she said that.)

“Sorry about that then,” Mr. Garrison didn't look totally convinced by Mrs. Tucker’s words. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on him and if he needs extra help by the end of the week, I’ll make sure he gets it. Mr. Mackey will surely be able to set some things up for him.”

“Thank you Mr. Garrison. Now…” Mrs. Tucker went down on her knees to face Craig more personally. “I know you’re freaked out honey, but please be good and don’t misbehave too much. Class will be ending early today, after lunch, so I’ll be back by noon, alright?”

“Okay Mommy,” Craig replied, letting his mother give him a quick hug, trying hard to not let his panic get the best at him at the notion that she was leaving him here with this old and grouchy teacher. At least he still had Clyde, Token, and Tweek to lean on in the classroom.

Mrs. Tucker pulled away, gave Craig one last pat on the head, and left the classroom. Craig didn’t burst into tears like he had back on the first day of preschool, but he did feel his blue eyes water up a little.

“Nnngh…” 

Craig was distracted from his grief when he heard Tweek make a strange noise. He turned around and realized that Tweek was STILL trying to hang up his backpack. He was so tiny, he couldn’t even reach the hook while jumping up and down or standing on his toes. 

“Hey Tweek, let me help.” Craig walked over to him and took the backpack from his hands. He hung it up easily, without having to stand on tiptoe. 

“T-thanks Craig!” Tweek beamed at him. “I’m gonna get a stool next time so it doesn’t h-happen again…”

“Hey, no problem,” Craig assured him. “If you can’t find one, I’ll always be glad to help.”

“Oh phew!” Tweek looked like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a tapping noise. When Craig looked around to see what it was, he realized it was Mr. Garrison tapping on the blackboard with a piece of chalk.

“Settle down children, settle down!” Mr. Garrison barked. “I’d like you all to come and gather around me on the reading rug.”

Craig and Tweek sat down on the blue and golden rug next to each other, with Token sitting on Tweek’s other side and Clyde sitting on Craig’s. Around them, Craig could see various classmates that he recognized from preschool, such as Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, and Butters. He also saw Wendy and Bebe, who were swapping Polly Pocket jewelry with each other, and Red, who gave him a shark-like grin when she caught him staring at her. 

“Alright then,” Mr. Garrison turned to face the class once they were all in a circle on the rug. “Welcome to Kindergarten children. We have a lot to learn about this coming year, so you’d better be on your best behavior or you’ll be booted out before you can say “Jiminy Cricket,” okay?”

Silence fell between all the children. Craig didn’t know how to respond to that statement and luckily, he wasn’t the only one.

“Anyway…” Mr. Garrison coughed. “Since it’s just your first day, we’re just going to take it easy and have some fun. I figured we’d better start with a get-to-know-you game, since preschool didn’t quite have the best system for letting you remember the names and other important information about your fellow classmates.”

Craig had to agree with that. He knew most of them by name, but hobbies and other factors? Nope, not a thing. 

“So we’ll go around in a circle and when I point to you, I want you to introduce yourself, first and last name please, and mention something you like. Are we clear?”

There was nodding and a hum of approval from the other classmates. Cartman looked like he wanted to punch someone rather than introduce himself. 

“Okay then, now let’s start!”

Mr. Garrison pointed at the first kid to his right, which happened to be Wendy.

“My name is Wendy Testaburger, and I like Polly Pocket!” Wendy grinned and showed her brand new necklace, which had a tiny figure of Polly riding a shooting star clipped to the middle. Craig knew Wendy’s first and last name and he already knew that she had gotten into Polly during the summer, so none of that information was new to him.

“My name is Bebe Stevens,” Bebe answered when Mr. Garrison pointed to her, since she was sitting next to Wendy. “And I like pretty dresses!”

And so it went on. Through this, Craig learned some facts about his classmates that he had figured out on his own (such as Kevin Stoley being a Star Wars fan) and some that he didn’t know about (such as Butters Stotch enjoying baking cookies with his mother)

“My name is Stan Marsh and I like watching football with my Dad,” Stan grinned cheerfully at his classmates. Next to him, Kyle looked lost in thought over what he wanted to say. But when Mr. Garrison pointed to him, he seemed to have formed an answer.

“My name is Kyle Broflovski and I like Stan Marsh!” He said this with a grin even wider than Stan’s, clearly proud of this. 

There was a shocked silence between the entire class and Mr. Garrison after Kyle’s shameless statement. Stan was looking at Kyle, totally red in the face from embarrassment.

“That’s...very nice Kyle,” Mr. Garrison coughed. “Moving on…” He pointed to Kenny, whose hood was so muffled, Craig couldn’t catch what he was saying. Craig thought he heard something like “dicks” and was glad that Mr. Garrison didn’t ask him to go on further. Eric Cartman was, of course, rude as he ever could be when Mr. Garrison called on him next, saying that he “liked to pick on Jewish people.” This earned him such a nasty glare from Kyle’s spot on the rug, Craig half expected daggers to shoot out of his emerald green eyes. 

Token was as calm and modest and Craig expected him to be with his answers, and then it was Tweek’s turn. Craig had seen him trembling and squirming in his seat the entire time and knew that Tweek just wanted to get it over with so that he could calm down.

“M-my n-name is Tweek T-tweak,” Tweek began, his stuttering worse than ever, left eye fluttering open and shut. “A-and I like C-cra-I mean, coffee! I like coffee…”

There were some muffled snorts from Clyde and Token and some surprised stares from Mr. Garrison and the rest of their classmates, but Craig was slower on the intake. Once it hit him, he felt like he had been hit by a truck, or at the very least, a Red Racer race car. Had Tweek tried to say that he liked him? Like Kyle had openly admitted how much he liked Stan? It made his dark brown face get tinged with a blotchy sort of pink. But he had little time to recover, since Mr. Garrison pointed to him next.

“My name is Craig Tucker,” Craig announced in his most monotonous tone of voice, his posture stiff and slightly wobbly, doing his best to keep his eyes fixed on a stain in the rug. “And I like space.”  
Once he was through, he settled back down, still a bit shaky. Well that was through and he hadn’t messed up and said Tweek’s name. Thank god for that. At the same time though, he wished he had. But then again, Kyle would have accused him of copying him, so he pushed this out of his mind for the time being and concentrated to listening to Clyde’s introduction, which was all about how much he adored tacos and ended with him and Cartman getting into a heated debate about the finer points of Mexican food, while Mr. Garrison yelled at them to shut up. 

When the introductions were finally over, they had time to play before lunch, so Craig, Clyde, Token, and Tweek opted to head over to the blocks and they built a massive city, later destroying it by having Clyde pose as Godzilla and kick all the blocks down. One hit Token above the eye and gave him an odd bruise that would last for several days afterwards, but luckily, Mr. Garrison was too busy telling off Kyle and Cartman for starting a fistfight to notice. By the time playtime and cleanup passed by, it was lunchtime and they all sat down at the tables that had their names on them. To Craig’s delight, he was sitting next to Tweek, and also Kenny, but he didn’t mind his company as much since he was so quiet. Clyde and Token were with them. When Craig turned around, he could see Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and Butters looking back at them, wondering how Kenny ended up over there. 

“It’s been an interesting day so far, hasn’t it?” Token asked them, trying to make conversation. None of them responded, as they were all pulling their lunches out of their various lunchboxes and brown paper bags. Token had a fancy metal lunchbox with a picture of some black rock star Craig had no idea existed before today, Clyde had a brown paper bag with little butterflies drawn on it (courtesy of his mother, who enjoyed drawing) and Tweek had a plaid cloth bag, using his thermos of coffee to drink with his lunch. Craig was pulling out his own Red Racer lunchbox when he realized that Kenny had nothing.

“You need anything to eat Kenny?” Token asked him. Kenny shook his head and pointed to the table behind them, where Butters was waving him over, mouthing something about having extra sandwiches to spare for him. 

“Oh, okay then.” Token watched Kenny wander over to Butter’s table, dragging his chair with him so that he could sit nearby. 

“It’s not as bad as I expected it to be here.” Clyde admitted, taking a big bite out of his peanut butter and honey sandwich. 

“Yeah, same.” Tweek chimed in, looking up over the rim of his coffee thermos. “We still get to play a bit, but it seems more...errm...serious than preschool somehow?”

“We haven’t started reading or math yet for one thing,” Craig pointed out as he slipped his lunch out of it’s plastic baggie. It was grape jelly on white bread, his favorite, even if Tweek and Clyde had raised their eyebrows at it the first time they had been served it at his house. 

“That’s fine with me.” Clyde said, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t mind taking it easy for a bit longer.”

“Clyde! You sit up properly over there!” Mr. Garrison yelled from his desk. Clyde sighed and straightened himself up, frowning.

“Should I flip him off?” Craig asked. “In revenge?”

“No, I don’t want you to get in trouble too.” Clyde glared back at Mr. Garrison, but he was turned the other way, cleaning the blackboard of the flowers Wendy and Bebe had drawn on it earlier. 

“Yeah, I agree.” Token said, opening up a vanilla pudding cup. “Besides, didn’t your mom tell you to stop flipping people off so much?”

“Oh shut up,” Craig pulled his hat down and sank lower in his chair, similar to how he had on his first day of preschool. That felt like ten years ago already, not one. And Craig wasn’t even ten yet. 

“You’re doing the thing that you did on the day that we met you.” Clyde giggled, patting Craig on the head like a puppy.

“Wow, that was a year ago.” Token stated that like it was blowing his mind. “Things really have changed.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Craig said, still sunken down in his chair. Things had been so different back then: he hadn’t had any friends, he had been so socially awkward and overstimulated he could barely function, and he had drunk from a guinea pig sippy cup. Now, he had three really great (if sometimes obnoxious) friends, his social awkwardness and sensitivities were slowly getting easier to deal with, and he was drinking his milk from a Red Racer thermos, while saving his green handprint stained guinea pig cup in a special box under his bed. He had also gotten a baby sister and had glow in the dark stars on his ceiling and had twitterpated feelings for Tweek, which he hoped Tweek would act on in return one day. 

Maybe he would have good chances of surviving kindergarten after all.

“Craig Tucker! Sit up!” Mr. Garrison barked, hovering over them like an angry balding vulture. Craig shifted his weight back upwards and grimaced when he walked away. While he could deal with the changes better than he could say, a year ago, he wished that Mr. Garrison wasn’t his teacher. He was too loud and always sounded angry and pissed off, like it was their fault he was stuck with his job teaching these snot nosed kindergarteners their ABCs. He would take Miss Claridge in her mechanical wheelchair over him anyday.

Mrs. Tucker came to pick Craig up a half hour later, since it was a short day. Craig had decided that all the social interaction was making him grouchy, so instead of going outside to play with his friends, he had settled himself by the book case and was flipping through an exciting book that was all about race cars in space, a combination that was blowing his little mind. Nearby, Kenny and Butters were having a stuffed animal tea party and Wendy and Bebe were digging through the costume trunk in search of a second tiara, so that they could play princesses together. Not known to them however, was the fact that Kenny had found that second tiara first and was wearing it over his hoodie as he poured pretend tea for Butters. 

“Craig dear, time to go.” Mrs. Tucker tapped his shoulder. Craig let out an embarrassingly high pitched scream that caused everyone in the classroom to turn and look at him, before he realized it was just his mother. 

“Oh...hi Mommy…” Craig flushed red in his humiliation. 

“Ready to go?” Mrs. Tucker asked him. She had Ruby in her baby sling, napping away as though she was deaf to the sounds of shrieking kindergarteners. 

“Yeah…” Craig sat up and put the book back on the shelf. “Can I say goodbye to Clyde, Token, and Tweek first? They’re outside.”

“Of course you can honey,” Mrs. Tucker said as Craig ran over to the cubbies to grab his backpack. “But you might want to hold off on saying goodbye to Tweek for a bit.”

“Why’s that?” Craig asked, confused.

“Because his mother called me saying that she won’t be able to get off her shift at the coffee shop until four o’clock. So you’re going to get to spend a little more time with Tweek, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yay!” Craig jumped up and down, flapping his arms and grinning like the cheshire cat. This was his first time spending over 24 hours with Tweek and he was elated by the fact. “Let’s go get him!”  
Mrs. Tucker led Craig out of the classroom to the playground and they found Tweek playing on the slide with Clyde and Token. He was just getting up from sliding down when he caught sight of Craig and his mother, but when he tried to wave, he failed to realize that Clyde had slid down after him and smacked into him at the bottom. He fell face first into the dirt with a loud shriek and started crying, making Kyle and Stan look up from their game of catch to stare.

“Tweek!” Craig rushed over to him to aid Token in helping him up, Clyde repeating “oh my god I’m so sorry!” over and over, “You okay?”

“I think so…” Tweek grinned, giving them a thumbs up through his tears. There was dirt all over his face, but he was unharmed otherwise. “Do I look okay to you guys?”

“You’re dirty, but there’s no blood,” Token assured him. Tweek’s tears seemed to have just been a reaction to his fear, not that he was actually in pain. 

“Here sweetheart.”

Mrs. Tucker had caught up with Craig and was now leaning over Tweek, holding out some baby wipes that she carried around for Ruby’s diapers. Tweek accepted them and began to scrub his face clean. 

“We can give you a better clean off with soap and water once we get back to my house.” Craig told him.

“W-what?” Tweek gasped, his hand frozen in mid wipe. “Did Mama abandon me? W-will I never go home ever again?”

“Of course not!” Craig scoffed, “You’re just gonna hang out with me and Clyde like we usually do after school until your mommy comes to get you.”

“Well, I usually come over from next door if my Mommy allows it,” Clyde admitted. “She said she’d be picking me up so um, I’m staying here with Token until she does.”

“I’d ask my Momma if I can come, but I have a piano lesson, sorry.” Token looked a bit disappointed at the prospect of his piano lesson. 

“It’s alright, you can come over next time,” Tweek promised Token, giving him a hug.

“Okay, it’s just you, Craig, Ruby and I then,” Mrs. Tucker smiled, taking Craig’s hand. “You kids can tell me all about your day on the way back!”

“Bye guys!” Tweek waved, latching onto Craig’s hand for the third time that day. As they walked farther away, Craig suddenly had a question come to mind to ask Clyde.

“Hey Clyde!” Craig yelled back at him.

“What?”

“Did Claire end up sharing those fruit snacks with you?”

“Nope! She said she ran out! I’m gonna tell Mommy when she comes to pick us up!” Clyde pouted next to the slide while Token patted his back sympathetically. Craig and Tweek snickered at Clyde’s pathetic pouting and continued on with their journey back to Craig’s house.


	8. Training Wheels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter is early! I was in the mood to write and had my ideas flowing so I just sat down and wrote this within two days. The whole thing involving the trike was what I had in mind for the end of Chapter 7, but I'm glad I split it off into it's own chapter.  
> -Sorry that it seems like filler but hey, life's full of filler, isn't it?  
> -Craig does have a high tolerance to pain in my headcanon of him, but in reality, I'm sensitive to like everything (including physical pain) Emotional pain however, like anxiety, is far worse.  
> -I did find out that cookies and coffee were an actual thing so Tweek isn't being that weird here, yayyy  
> -Clyde's fun to write too. He's such a dorky kid  
> -Wheeking's an actual term for guinea pigs! They do it when they're hungry, trust me, I did my research  
> -"It was this damn ass rock Craig."
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this (slightly) shorter chapter! ^^

Through the entirety of the trip home, Craig and Tweek filled in Craig’s mother on what they had done on their first day, talking about what they liked and what they hadn’t liked. Craig had liked the selection of toy cars and hadn’t liked the longer school day (He knew it would get even longer by tomorrow and he wasn’t looking forward to it.) Tweek had enjoyed lunchtime and hadn’t liked the get-to-know-you game all that much (“Too much pressure!” he had insisted when Mrs. Tucker inquired further.) 

Not surprisingly, they both agreed that they weren’t that fond of Mr. Garrison. Most of the trip back involved them complaining about him to Craig’s mother.

“He was kinda mean,” Tweek said first.

“And didn’t like it when Clyde and I slouched in our seats.” Craig added, kicking a stray pebble off the curb. 

“Boys, don’t criticize your teacher.” Mrs. Tucker told them.

“He’s still mean.” Tweek insisted.

“I’ll admit to you two that I wasn’t that pleased with him either,” Mrs. Tucker sighed, adjusting Ruby in her sling. “But he is your teacher and will be for the rest of the school year, so we’ll all have to put up with him, unless something really bad happens that causes me to think that you’ll be better off without him.”

“Isn’t that for my Mama to decide?” Tweek asked her. 

Mrs. Tucker realized that she had implied that Tweek was her third child and started laughing, making Tweek and Craig crack up too. Their laughter woke up Ruby and she started screaming at the top of her lungs, adding to the chaos and causing strangers to stop and stare.

“We’d better get back home now…” Mrs. Tucker said, flushing and speeding up her pace, Tweek and Craig close behind her. They reached the Tucker’s house in record time. Mrs. Tucker fumbled with the keys and unlocked the door, ushering the boys inside. Mr. Tucker had left for work earlier, so the house was empty when they stepped inside. He wouldn't be back until that evening. 

“You two go find something to do, I need to breastfeed Ruby,” Mrs. Tucker told them. “Clyde will probably be here within the half hour, with any luck.”

“Let’s go play with Stripe while we wait!” Craig exclaimed, dragging Tweek up the stairs and into his bedroom, where Stripe was waiting patiently in his cage for Craig’s eventual return. He squeaked and scurried around in excitement when he caught sight of Craig opening the door to his room, his shavings getting on Craig’s carpet. 

“Hi buddy!” Craig let go of Tweek’s hand and dashed over to Stripe’s cage, undoing the latch and scooping him up into his arms. “I missed you today!” 

Stripe relaxed against Craig’s chest and squealed and made soft little noises that Craig recognized as wheekings. 

“You hungry Stripe?” Craig asked him, stroking his back, enjoying the smooth silkiness of his fur under his fingers.

“How do you know that he is?” Tweek asked, scratching Stripe’s head with one finger. It was a major improvement from yesterday afternoon, when he couldn’t even listen to Stripe squeak without flinching. 

“He’s wheeking, a sound that guinea pigs make when they’re hungry.” Craig explained. “Did you know that they only developed wheeking to let humans know when they were hungry?”

“Really? Wow!” Tweek looked at Stripe and Craig admiringly. “You’re so good at all this guinea pig stuff Craig!”

“Well, I have owned one for two years,” Craig admitted, blushing for what he was sure was maybe the third or fourth time that day. Some of his knowledge had also come from the guinea care books that he had his mother read to him for fun. “You, uh, wanna grab some baby carrots from the fridge? He loves those a lot.”

“Sure,” Tweek nodded and the two of them, Craig still holding Stripe to his chest, ventured back downstairs to the kitchen, where they pulled out the bag of baby carrots and took turns feeding them to Stripe on the kitchen table, laughing at how possessive he got over them when they dangled them in front of him. In the middle of their Stripe feeding, Clyde arrived. He practically clattered into the kitchen like a hurricane, knocking over a chair and causing Tweek to shriek, Craig to cover his ears, and Stripe to nearly fall off the kitchen table. 

“Watch where you’re going!” Craig gasped, barely recovering. “You nearly caused Stripe to fall you moron!”

“Sorry Sorry!” Clyde panted, clutching at a stitch in his side. “But something awesome just happened, you guys need to come over, quick!”

“Okay, just lemme put Stripe back,” Craig insisted as Tweek wheezed, his throat sore from his rather loud scream and Clyde straightened up the chair he had knocked over. Craig dashed back upstairs and shut Stripe back into his cage, apologizing all the while for not giving him all the attention he needed and would be right back. Once he was done, he met Tweek and Clyde out in the living room and yelled over his shoulder to his mother about where he and Tweek were going before they left out the front door.

“So what awesome thing happened?” Tweek asked Clyde as they made the short walk to his house next door. 

“You’ll see in a minute.” Clyde told them. He ran ahead of them and opened the garage door, motioning for them to come over. When Tweek and Craig did, their jaws dropped open.

“Woah! Dude!” Craig exclaimed, “How’d you get so lucky?”

Clyde’s awesome thing was a shiny new tricycle. It was fire engine red and seemed to shine in the late afternoon sunlight. There was black handles and wheels, still clean from fingerprints and dirt. There was even a nice horn on the handles.

“Mommy bought it for me as a first day of Kindergarten present.” Clyde told them, running his hand down the handles. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“It is…” Craig agreed, even though he knew nothing about tricycles. He didn’t have one himself and he knew Tweek was freaked out by bikes and trikes of any kind due to the high risks of getting gushing wounds and broken bones. Craig had never owned anything that pedaled and steered before due to his motor coordination being so bad when he was younger. The one time he had tried to ride a tricycle at therapy, he had fallen off immediately onto the rug the had placed underneath in case something went wrong. In Craig’s case, something sure had gone wrong if he couldn’t even stay on a stupid tricycle in a controlled environment. 

“Y-you’re gonna ride it?” Tweek asked him, his big green eyes watching Clyde’s hand trail up and down the handles.

“Of course, duh,” Clyde scoffed. “That’s what it’s here for. Just watch me!”

Clyde stop stroking the handles and walked over to the shiny black seat, swinging one leg over, his feet touching the petals at just the right level, as though the trike had been made for him (In reality, his mother had adjusted it to his size before giving it to him) and began to pedal in circles around the garage.

“Whoopieeee!” Clyde whooped, crashing into a box full of packing peanuts, spilling them all over the concrete garage floor.

“Carefullll!” Tweek warned him, now chewing on his cuticles. “I don’t wanna be responsible for your trip to the hospital!”

“Not gonna happen,” Clyde scoffed, knocking over another box of packing peanuts as he continued pedaling, the commotion causing Mrs. Donovan to poke her head out of the mud room to see what the noise was all about. She wasn’t pleased when she saw what was going on. 

“Clyde!” She scolded, palm colliding with forehead. “I didn’t get you that tricycle for you to destroy the garage with it! Take it outside!” 

“Okay fine! Geez….”

Craig and Tweek moved out of the way so that Clyde could pedal out of the garage and they watched him ride in circles around his driveway, whooping and hollering loud enough for half the neighborhood to hear.

“Say…” Clyde braked the trike and stepped off, gesturing at the handles, “You want to try it out you guys?”

“No,” were Tweek and Craig’s automatic answers. Neither of them liked bikes or trikes and there was no way either of them were going to get on this one. 

“Oh come on!” Clyde whined, giving them his puppy face, which considering his brown eye color, was rather convincing. “Just for a little bit! Please?” 

“Oh alright,” Craig sighed. He would be sueing Craig if he cracked his head open a few minutes later. He went over and sat down on the trike, surprised that his legs fit despite not being adjusted to his exact height, while his butt was skinny enough for there to be room left on the seat, something that hadn’t been possible when Clyde was riding due to his heavier body type. Gingerly, he peddled in circles around Clyde’s driveway, but he was relieved to find that is coordination was greatly improved: he didn’t fall off once. Maybe all the time he spent in his therapy was paying off after all. 

“Good job!” Tweek clapped, Clyde joining in. It made Craig feel silly, just going in circles around Clyde’s wide driveway like he was a toddler who didn’t know how to steer. 

“Say Clyde,” Craig hit the brakes and screeched to a stop. “Did your Mommy say we can go beyond the driveway?”

“Sure we can,” Clyde said. “She said we can ride on the sideway the whole block, just as long as we don’t go down the hill. She’s also watching us from the window of my house just in case something goes wrong.”  
Part of their route to school involved them going down a bit of a hill into the path that would divide off into school and downtown. It wasn’t steep at all, but if you were to ride down very fast on a bike or a trike or a skateboard, there was a high chance that you could lose control and crash into a tree or worse, a passing car. If that happened, there was a high chance you could die. Last year, Craig had actually seen Kenny ride a kid’s skateboard around here and saw him get hit by a car, but when Craig saw him the next day at preschool, he seemed totally fine, so Craig decided it was pointless to ask him about it. 

“Alright, I’m getting off the driveway, stand back.”

Clyde and Tweek moved onto the grass on Clyde’s front lawn to watch Craig steer off the driveway and begin to drive around the sidewalk, wincing whenever he hit a crack.

“Stay on the side with the grass!” Clyde advised. “That way if you tip over, you’ll land on the grass and not the street.”

“Thanks,” Craig muttered, wishing that Clyde hadn’t pointed out the possibility of landing on the hard pavement if he somehow fell off. He peddled a few more feet and suddenly, an idea struck him as he adjusted his weight in the tricycle seat. 

“Hey Tweek…” Craig stopped the trike and wiggled a bit in place. “I have some room of the seat. Want to sit behind me?”

“Gahhh! No way!” Tweek gasped, his eyes big and fearful, limbs shakey. “There’s no way I’m getting on that thing!”

“Relax Tweek, I’ll be steering it, you’ll just have to hold on.” Craig couldn’t believe his tone in this statement. He sounded like a professional, not a five year old who had fallen off the last trike he had tried to ride two years ago. But he did want Tweek to ride with him. It could be fun after all.

“O-okay Craig…” Tweek blinked rapidly and settled down on the seat behind Craig. There was barely enough room for him and Craig could feel Tweek’s stomach pressed up against his lower back and his heart beating beneath his chest a bit higher up, fluttering like a bird’s wings frantically trying to break free from his rib cage. 

“How will I hold on?” Tweek asked.

“Wrap your arms around Craig’s waist.” Clyde suggested, looking on at their potentially unwise attempt to fit on the trike together. 

“O-okay….” Tweek responded by doing as Clyde said, gripping his arms around Craig. Craig tensed up at the contact, but his anxiety settled down when he realized just how badly Tweek was shaking. 

“We’ll be fine Tweek,” Craig’s voice came out a bit wheezy due to how tightly Tweek was squeezing against his windpipe. “But uh...could you loosen your grip a bit maybe before we start?”

“Oh!” Tweek gasped. “I’m so sorry!” He loosen his grip, but not enough to lose the security he had formed by clinging to Craig’s body. 

“Ready?” Craig asked him

“I-I guess…” Tweek sighed, while Clyde gave them a thumbs up. Craig began to peddle again, moving slower as to not startle Tweek too much. It was hard to move faster anyway, since their combined weight was a bit hard to work with in terms of mobility. Nonetheless, Tweek squeaked and gripped Craig a little tighter, not hard enough to cut off circulation or put Craig into sensory distress, thankfully. 

“You okay back there?” Craig asked when they had been at it for a while. He wanted to speed up, but he didn’t want to startle Tweek too badly. Tweek nodded vigorously, biting his bottom lip. 

“Can I go faster?” Craig asked.

“Uhh...just not too fast!” Tweek squealed. Craig could see that he had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood and hoped that going faster wouldn’t make his tiny injury worse. He sped up anyway, trying hard not to go too fast, but it was rough going trying to keep his pace slow. He wanted to experience speed and going at a snail’s pace was boring him to death. So, without warning, he began to pedal harder and harder, making Tweek shriek like a baby animal and grip him hard enough to bruise. He didn’t care, he was the Red Racer, and he was gonna go as fast as he could for as long as he could. He was so absorbed in his fantasy that he became deaf to Tweek and Clyde’s screams of warning to watch where he was going and blind to the danger that was approaching them.

“Turn around! Turn around!” Clyde hollered, looking horribly pale. “You’re gonna go down the hill!” 

Craig snapped out of his fantasy, but it was too late. They began to speed down the hill at an uncontrollable speed, the two unfortunate passengers screaming at the top of their lungs.

“OH MY GOD HELP!” Craig gasped as he tried to stop the trike with no luck.

“MAYDAY! MAYDAYYYY!” Tweek screamed loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, his grip around Craig’s waist getting too tight for him to handle, making the situation worse. 

There was a high chance that they two of them would have crashed hard against a tree or a car by the time they reached the bottom, but they had a lucky break in the form of a small pebble, much like the one Craig had kicked off the curb earlier. The front wheel of the trike hit the pebble and they tipped over, their heads and most of their other limbs landing in the grass on an unknown lawn safely. The trike went with them, landing unharmed next to them. 

“Guys!” Clyde raced over to them, panting, his face pale as a sheet. “Y-you both alright?”

“I-I think so…” Tweek sat up first and wiggled his trembling limbs, to check if anything hurt or was broken. Nothing was out of the ordinary, so he sighed with relief. “Craig? You okay too?”

“Of course I am,” Craig scoffed, sitting up and shrugging. Up until the part when he thought they were going to crash, he had found it fun, but when he stretched out his knee, both Clyde and Tweek looked on the verge of more screaming.

“Y-you’re knee!” Tweek gasped, looking tearful. 

Craig looked down and realized what they were freaking out about. While the rest of his body had gotten through unharmed, Craig’s right knee was scraped, covered in dirt and oozing blood. 

“Oh,” Craig said, staring down at it curiously. “That’s inconvenient.”

“That looks like it hurt!” Clyde gaped at him. “S-should I go get Mommy?”

“Sure,” Craig said, stretching out his left leg. “She can help us get the trike back up the hill.”

“O-okay,” Clyde looked confused as to why Craig wasn’t asking for a band-aid. “I’ll be right back!”

Clyde ran back up the hill, panting the entire way, leaving Tweek to look over Craig and his scrape on the lawn.

“How badly does it hurt?” Tweek asked him, trying to avoid looking at Craig’s horribly messy scrape. Blood make him squeamish. 

“Not too badly.” Craig admitted to him.

“Not too badly? You look like you’ve been cut to the bone!”

“Nah,” Craig shrugged. “I don’t feel pain that easily. It takes a lot to work me up.”

“So you can get scrapes and paper-cuts and other boo-boos all you like and they just don’t hurt that much?” Tweek asked him, looking alarmed, but also in awe. 

“I guess that’s a good way to put it.” Craig said. He hadn’t thought about it much. Sure, he did feel pain sometimes, such as the time he face planted onto the sidewalk on his first day of preschool, but for the most part, he found that his reactions to pain were muted, like someone had turned the volume down on his sensories to it. He had actually had some bad self injuring habits as a very young kid, such as banging his head against the wall and not letting his mother know when he was really hurt and just fiddling around with his injury and making it worse, but he had grown out of those a long time ago. 

“I’d think it would be the other way round.” Tweek admitted. “Since y-you’re so sensitive to fabric and stuff.”

“Actually, being in pain with “fabric and stuff” hurts more.” Craig put in, adjusting his injured knee and watching a small trail of blood run down his leg from the cut, fascinated at how it shone in the sunlight. 

“How so?” Tweek asked, not finding the blood quite as fascinating as Craig did, looking more squeamish than interested. 

“Because when I’m squeezed or touched by someone, it’s like fire on my skin or something.” Craig had never really tried to explain his sensitivities to anyone really before, so he was having trouble finding the right words. “Sounds hurt, smells make me sick, and bright lights feel like they’re piercing me in the eyeballs.”

“And that hurts more than falling off a trike?”

“Pretty much.”

Silence fell between the two of them, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was more of a comfortable silence, that involved the two of them just sitting there and enjoying the other’s presence. Even if Craig was injured and Tweek was still stressing about it, worrying that Clyde and his mother would never arrive and that Craig would bleed out and die before they did. 

“Craig? Can I tell you something?” Tweek broke the silence

“Sure, spit it out.”

“You are probably the strongest person I know.” Tweek breathed out, red in the face so thickly that all his freckles were covered up by the hue. 

“Oh,” Craig deadpanned, unsure of what to say next to this complement. He had never been called something like that before. “Uhhh...thanks Tweek…”

A few seconds later, they heard loud footsteps that caused them to look up. They turned out to be Clyde with Mrs. Donovan in tow. She had a first aid kit in one hand and a water bottle in the other and she looked frantic.  
“What were you kids thinking?” She gasped, sounding more relieved than angry. She bent down and opened up the first aid kid, taking out some wipes and twisted the cap off the water bottle. She dumped the water onto the wipes and proceeded to clean Craig’s knee of the dirt and the excess blood. Craig didn’t move but instead watched her, fascinated.

“How does it look?” Clyde asked his mother, clutching at her shoulder.

“He’ll survive.” Mrs. Donovan assured her son and Tweek. “It’s a nasty cut, but it isn’t super deep so it will heal up in it’s own time.” She opened up the first aid kit again and pulled out a large Red Racer band-aid, which made Craig’s eyes light up when he saw it. They looked just like the ones his mother kept in the bathroom for him whenever he got scrapes and cuts at home. 

“I grabbed them from your mother.” Mrs. Donovan explained to him as she applied it to Craig’s knee, covering it up. “There, all better! How does it feel?”

“Fine.” Craig said. “Can I get up now?”

“Oh, of course dear. Let’s get you and Tweek back to your house, shall we?”

Craig heaved himself off the grass, his butt sore from sitting there so long. Tweek immediately grabbed his hand and they followed Mrs. Donovan and Clyde back up the hill. Clyde had picked the tricycle back up and was wheeling it towards the garage. It had come out of the accident clear of damage, aside from a few grass stains on the paint and a skid mark on the front wheel. 

“Are you going to tell Mommy about this?” Craig asked her, suddenly worried about getting in trouble for being so reckless on the trike.

“Well, I will tell her there was an accident, but if I don’t disclose what caused it, will you agree not to ride Clyde’s trike near the hill again?”

“Yes Mrs. Donovan.” Craig told her, hanging his head low. Never again would he ride a trike fast enough to think he was the Red Racer ever again. 

Back at Craig’s house, Mrs. Tucker was alarmed to find that Craig had gotten hurt, but Mrs. Donovan kept her word and didn’t mention the exact circumstances of how it had happened. She stayed over with Clyde to chat with Mrs. Tucker over some coffee and cookies, which the boys were offered as well, since the event and the school day had worked up quite an appetite in all three of them. Craig and Clyde took the cookies but passed up on the coffee. Tweek took both, dunking his cookies into it.

“Doesn’t your coffee get filled with crumbs when you do that?” Clyde asked him as Tweek munched on a coffee dunked shortbread cookie. 

“Nah, I do this a lot at home.” Tweek explained, spraying crumbs when he talked. 

“So it’s like cookies and milk but with coffee?” Craig said, taking a bite out of his chocolate chip cookie. He did that a lot with oreos. It was easily one of his favorite snacks, but he only really got to do it at Clyde and Token’s houses because his mother thought oreos were too unhealthy to keep around all the time. 

“Sorta, I guess.” Tweek giggled as he reached for another cookie off the plate. 

When they were finished, they went back up to Craig’s room and played Candy Land until Tweek’s mother arrived to pick him up.

“Bye guys!” Tweek said, hugging them both tightly before racing downstairs into his mother’s arms, since he hadn’t seen her for about twenty-four hours and had really missed her. 

“Should we keep going and just remove Tweek’s figure?” Clyde asked. They were only halfway through the game because Craig kept being sent back to the spaces towards the start and had to start over. 

“Eh, I’m getting bored of this game anyway.” Craig replied, starting to put away the cards. “Let’s go downstairs and bug Ruby.”

When they went down, Tweek and his mother were gone, but they amused themselves by playing patty cake with Ruby until Mrs. Donovan announced it was time for them to leave too so that she could get a jump start on the casserole she was planning to make for dinner. 

“See you tomorrow!” Clyde winked at Craig as he and his mother departed out the front door.  
Craig groaned under his breath at the thought of being under the control of Mr. Garrison for yet another day, for the rest of the school year. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Craig was socially exhausted after his long day of Kindergarten and playing with his friends, so his mother gave him the space he needed until dinnertime. He spent his cooldown time playing with Stripe and thinking about all that had happened that day. 

“Things sure are changing lately,” Craig complained to Stripe, holding him out in front of his face. “I’m not sure I like all these changes. They’re scary.”

But then again, if these changes involved the fact that he and Tweek were strengthening their friendship bit by bit as time went on, he was plenty okay with that. Especially when Tweek had told him “You’re the strongest person I know.”

If Tweek really thought he was, then he’d have to start trying harder and get used to all the changes that were flipping his life upside down. He had survived his first day of Kindergarten and he had survived riding a tricycle down a hill at an alarmingly fast speed, so that meant he could survive anything if he just put his mind too it. Which, he decided, he would.


	9. Disability Packets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again! School's been winding down so when summer hits, I'll have more time to write more frequent chapter updates, so stay turned for that!  
> -Part of the reason this took so long was the extensive research I was putting into this chapter. I was researching the SHIT out of things kids with Aspergers in school need to get help. I also ended up finding out about a ton of facts about aspergers/autism I didn't even know about, so hopefully my newfound knowledge will shine through in later chapters!  
> -I had all the things that Craig was told would help him out in school (aside from the moon sand) And I'll just say that the grips and the slanted boards were terrible and I hated them. The wiggle seat was alright, but tbh I felt really embarrassed about having to use all that when nobody else was.  
> -Tweek finally gets diagnosed with this problems in this. Like the Aspergers stuff, I WILL be going into detail about how his ADD and anxiety affects him, since I actually DO have both of those on top of Aspergers ;w; yeah....  
> -And I do admit that the end of this chapter was actually going to be worse (with Craig getting bullied for his special need stuff) buttt I decided a cliffhanger was better :)  
> -And I hope you guys spotted what I did with Craig's birthdate-I lined it up so that he would be 8 in 1997-the year that South Park first aired! So the current year the story is taking place is 1994 ^^ 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! ^^

The rest of the first week of Kindergarten was rough on Craig, making him wonder if he was able to survive anything after all, or would Kindergarten as a whole be the end of him. Oh true, he was having fun with his friends during their free hours and did enjoy learning about new things, but the good wasn’t quite enough to balance out the bad in this case.

The longer hours at school turned him into a grouchy overstimulated bear by the time his mother picked him up, refusing to talk much about his day until he had a cool down period in his room. They were learning some basic reading and writing and how to count to ten, but even though Craig showed from the start that he was a good reader (being the first one to read a sentence by the time the week was out) Mr. Garrison was constantly telling him to sit up or stop wiggling in his seat or to adjust his grip on his pencil. His reprimanding got old fast and Craig resorted to flipping him off when he back was turned, too distracted by how shitty the other kids were doing to pay attention to Craig's obscene gestures. His friends and some of his other classmates noticed and looked on in a mixture of admiration and shock, amazed that he really didn’t give a crap about what Mr. Garrison was saying to him. In reality, this was a frustration reflex, just a sign that he had enough of this stupid school stuff and just wanted out, as soon as possible.

Craig wasn't the only one struggling in his new environment: he had noticed dramatic changes in Tweek from the second day of school, when Mr. Garrison pulled out the pencils and paper he had stored in his desk and asked them to practice writing the letters of the alphabet. Craig had written his letters decently (despite his horrific grip), but Tweek seemed barely able to stay on task, shaking and twitching too hard to write the letters as neatly as he could or just staring off into space, looking anxious and lost. He chewed on his fingernails and the ends of his pencils and his squirming and wiggling in his seat was a thousand times worse than Craig's, with Mr. Garrison turning to glare at him whenever he managed to wiggle so hard that he rocked and shifted his chair a few inches, distracting everyone from their lessons. Tweek’s response to these moments was to stop wiggling and put his face in his hands, looking like he wanted to cry, trembling all over in fear. 

“I don't know what's wrong with me!” Tweek burst into tears the moment they had left school for the day with their mothers. “I-I just have this horrible itch to move and then I can't concentrate and then I get worried that I'll flunk out of Kindergarten-” 

“You won't.” Craig assured him, but he was worried too-for both Tweek and himself. Whatever was going on in their little brains, it was making it hard for them to function like normal human beings. Whenever Craig looked over at Token, Clyde, and Kenny, he wondered just what it would be like without the itch to move, the overwhelming domino effect feelings that came before a meltdown, or just even what it would be like to not have his senses on fire 24/7. It would be easier, Craig supposed, to live a life free of those problems, and sometimes, when he was feeling particularly down and frustrated with his struggles, he wished with all his heart that he could snap his fingers and be a “normal” kid. He'd wish Tweek's away with his own and then they'd both be free of what got in their way at school and in the world around them. 

But Craig knew it would never be possible. When he confessed to his mother about these feelings on the afternoon of the fourth day, she encouraged him to sit down on his bed with her and talk about why he was feeling that way. Craig had had a very hard day, having forced himself to hold in a meltdown about not remembering what came after 5, thinking that Mr. Garrison would have been furious at him if he had lost his cool. The whole thing was silly, but having a meltdown over silly things was something Craig did rather well ever since he was small. Craig cried the entire way home, telling his mother everything and his desires to be more like a “normal” kid. 

“Craig, I wish I could just wish away your troubles at times,” Mrs. Tucker confessed, tears threatening to leak out of her grayish blue eyes as she tried to comfort her son. Craig’s own eyes were sore and red rimmed from his own crying. “But having Aspergers is what makes you the Craig Tucker you are. Without it, what do you suppose you'd be like?” 

“I don't know.” Craig admitted, trying to picture himself without his problems. The vision he got was just a blur, standing blankly and looking indifferent to the world around him. There was no overloaded senses, but no sense of feeling anything either. He just couldn't see himself clearly without it.

“I can tell from your facial expression that you can't picture it.” Mrs. Tucker smiled gently, her tone sympathetic. “I couldn't either. You'd be a stranger to me without it. It’s just part of who you are, not entirely what makes you the Craig I love.” 

“I still don’t want it.” Craig grumbled, kicking his legs. “Why’d I have to be born like this, going to all my therapies and stuff? Why couldn’t I be born normal like Clyde and Token?” He almost included Tweek in his statement but he remembered that Tweek was similar to him in the fact that he wasn’t born normal either. 

“Sweetheart, nobody is normal.” Mrs. Tucker explained to him. “Especially here in South Park.” 

Craig laughed because it was true. South Park was a quirky town and perhaps a quirky kid like himself fit right in. Even still, he wasn’t fully comforted. 

“Mr. Garrison doesn’t like me.” Craig confessed

“I don’t like him either.” Mrs. Tucker sighed, leaning back on Craig’s bed. “When I called him a few days ago to ask how you were doing in class, he gave me an angry rant on how terrible a parent I was towards you if your behavior was always this bad.” 

“I do wiggle in my chair a lot.” Craig admitted, looking down at his socked feet. “And I can’t seem to hold the pencil correctly either. And I get so mad sometimes I flip him off when I think he’s not looking....” 

“Well, then I’ll be contacting Mr. Mackey to get you what you need to make your school time more comfortable. But…” Mrs. Tucker sat up and patted Craig’s shoulder, encouraging him to try and look at her more clearly. “Please don’t flip anyone off Craig. It’s not polite.”

“But you and Daddy do it all the time to each other!”

“That’s different honey. We’re grownups and you’re only five and you don’t know what it means yet.”

“What does it mean then?” Craig asked her. “All I know is that you do it when you’re angry at each other so I do it to people when I’m angry too.”

“Uhh…” Mrs. Tucker felt sweat dripping down her neck as she thought about how to explain it. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, alright?”

“Okay Mommy.” Craig nodded dutifully. He had other more important things that he wanted to know the meaning of. His mother gave him a quick hug and left his room to go call Mr. Mackey and start dinner. When she was gone, Craig flopped onto his back and sighed, staring up at the glow in the dark constellations on his ceiling like he wanted them forever imprinted in his mind. Maybe he did, so that when he was old and wrinkly with gray hair, he’d just have to close his eyes and come back to this time in his life when he was five and a half and had a guinea pig and glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. Whatever he wanted, he was glad his mother was supportive and set on helping his time in Kindergarten get better for him.

A few hours later, Craig was called down to set the table for dinner. His mother was in the kitchen, stirring the pot of fish stew that she had prepared for dinner that night.

“Aww fish stew?” Craig complained, pinching his nose. “That smells gross!”

“Craig, please don’t complain and just set the table.” Mrs. Tucker sighed. 

Craig wandered over to the table, where his mother had neatly laid out the bowls, cups, spoons, and napkins and began to place them around. He didn’t set a place for Ruby because she’d be eating in her high chair. She wasn’t old enough to use a bowl and a spoon yet, much less eat fish stew. 

“Well done sweetheart.” Mrs. Tucker praised him, setting down the steaming pot of fish stew on the hotplate. “Thomas! Dinnertime!”

Mr. Tucker entered the dining room with a fussing Ruby in his arms. “Oh thank goodness. Ruby was howling up a storm back in her pen. I think she’s hungry.”

“Well, it’s your turn to feed her.” Mrs. Tucker said crisply, handing him the jar of green pea baby food that she had selected for Ruby’s dinner. 

The stew ended up tasting a lot better than it smelled, Craig found. He spent most of his meal listening to his parents talk to each other. Being the only child at the table that wasn’t an infant, he stayed quiet a lot unless he had something major to say. If his friends were over for dinner, he tended to be much chattier and also made a bit more of a mess in the process. His mother never let him forget about the time he was talking so intently about Stripe’s new chewing toys to Token and Clyde that he hadn’t noticed that he had his elbow in his dish of chocolate ice cream, leaving a brownish stain on his old favorite blue sweater forever. 

Tonight however, his mother let him know right off the bat that this conversation would involve him.

“So I called Mr. Mackey today.” Mrs. Tucker began, stirring her stew to help it cool down. 

“For what reason?” Mr. Tucker asked, only half listening because Ruby was spitting her mashed peas in his vicinity. 

“Because Craig is struggling a little bit in school and Mr. Mackey is the school counselor.” Mrs. Tucker explained. “He told me to come meet him tomorrow morning and to bring Craig with me, so that he can meet him too and get a better understand of what he needs.”

“What sort of struggles is Craig having?” Mr. Tucker asked, acting as though Craig wasn’t sitting right next to him. Craig frowned as he sunk down lower in his seat, wishing he could answer for him. But his father was asking his mother, not him, and besides, Mr. Tucker wasn’t as involved in Craig’s school life as his mother was and thus, knew less about how Craig was doing in school. 

“He’s reading fine, but he won’t sit still all that well.” Mrs. Tucker began, looking a bit worried about telling her husband all this. “Mr. Garrison also mentioned to me that his grip was poor and he kept slouching in his seat.”

“Like he is now?”

They both turned to stare at Craig, who had now sunk so low that only the yellow puffball on his hat could be seen above the table. 

“Sit up honey.” His mother reminded him. Craig stuck out his tongue at her, trying to resist the temptation to flip off his own mother.

“Craig, mind your mother.” Craig’s father snapped. His angry tone made Craig sit up right away, flinching a bit as he readjusted himself in his seat. 

“Anyway,” Mrs. Tucker continued on, as though they had not been interrupted. “Because of his issues, we’re going to see what can be done to make Craig’s time at school more comfortable for him.”

“What do you suppose Mr. Mackey will suggest for Craig?” Mr. Tucker asked.

“He’ll probably ask Craig himself in greater detail, I hope.” Mrs. Tucker knew that in some ways, Craig was mature for his age and in some ways he wasn’t, but she wasn’t sure what Mr. Mackey would be like to talk too. Craig didn’t know either and that alone was making him a bit nervous for their meeting tomorrow.

“Whatever is done to help him get over his Aspergers, the better it will be for all of us.” Mr. Tucker said, reaching over to wipe Ruby’s pea stained mouth with a wet paper towel that he had prepared ahead of time. After the marinara sauce incident earlier that week, he wasn’t taking any chances. 

Mrs. Tucker signed and set down her spoon. “I told you before Thomas, when I sighed Craig up for his therapies, that Aspergers isn’t something you “just get over.” He’s going to have it for the rest of his life, and the reason he is getting help is to help him learn how to cope with his problems out in the real world.” She knew her husband had meant well by saying that, wanting Craig to be over his struggles so that he wouldn’t always be in so much pain, but it frustrated her that sometimes, he just didn’t get it at all. 

“Sorry, it’s just…” He glanced over at Craig, who wanted to shrink back down in his chair again but resisted. “I just wish I could...help, you know? I’m at work all day and Craig’s at school now and when I come home he just doesn’t want to interact with me at all.”

“Because I’m usually tired, Daddy.” Craig snapped, not appreciating that his father was talking about him like he wasn’t present at the table.

“Thomas, little pitchers have big ears you know,” Mrs. Tucker signed, leaning over to absentmindedly adjust Craig’s hat, which had slipped slightly askew when he had tried to hide under the table earlier. “Let’s talk more about this once Craig’s in bed, alright?”

“Alright,” Mr. Tucker echoed, leaning back in his chair as Craig spooned more stew into his mouth, trying to imagine water pitchers with giant dumbo like ears, quite literally “little pitchers have big ears.” 

When dinner was finished and the dishes were cleared away, Craig was too worried about what would be happening tomorrow to really enjoy dessert, which was a shame because Strawberry Jello and whipped cream was usually a favorite of his. He ended up just swirling it around until it had mixed together into a light pink goop, half of which ended up in the garbage.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, with Craig rotating between playing with Ruby on the living room rug and playing chutes and ladders with his parents. When bedtime finally came and his teeth were brushed, his story of choice read, and he had gotten kisses good-night, he listened for the sounds of his parents talking in the room below him. They were just a buzz really, he wasn’t able to decipher their words, but he heard his name come up a few times, along with the occasional “he should” or “he shouldn’t” the context of which he couldn’t make heads or tails of. He eventually drifted off to sleep, their muffled chatter blending into the background of his dreams about flying through the stars with Tweek at his side.

Next morning was a cold and drizzly day, a huge contrast to the Indian summer that had been going on during the first day of Kindergarten. 

“Not such a great day out there, isn’t it?” Mrs. Tucker asked Craig as she tried to make him stay still long enough for her to button up his raincoat against the cold and the oncoming rain.

“Mmmph,” was all Craig said on the matter, his voice already muffled by the horribly high necked collar on his coat. South Park was more known for it’s snowy weather than it’s rainy days, so his raincoat wasn’t anything fancy, just a basic shiny yellow with a hood attached. Wearing the raincoat was a double edged sword for Craig, for he loved the slick shiny material the coat was made of, but hated the collar, gagging every time his mother buttoned it a bit too high up. 

“Ready dear?” Craig’s mother asked him. Once more, Mr. Tucker was delaying his trip to work to look after Ruby while she was gone. She didn’t want to bring Ruby along to a meeting that involved just Craig and herself. 

“Ready Mommy,” Craig dutifully replied, feeling clammy in the knees.

“Let’s go then,” Mrs. Tucker announced, taking Craig’s hand with her left hand and her blue umbrella with her right. Once outside, she opened it up and they walked to school under the shelter it provided. 

“I know you’re nervous sweetheart,” Mrs. Tucker said as she watched Craig lean over for a second to watch some worms wiggle about in a puddle on the sidewalk. “But Mr. Mackey sounded nice on the phone, so with any luck, things will go smoothly, alright?”

“Yes Mommy,” Craig replied in his nasally voice as he poked one of the worms, watching it squirm away from him as he approached it yet again. 

“Leave them alone Craig.” Mrs. Tucker said when she realized what Craig was doing. 

“Who?”

“The worms of course. They don’t like being poked by small children.”

“Oh…” Craig let up his hand and let his mother lead him away. He whispered “Sorry worms!” as the puddle grew smaller in the distance until it was just a speck of clear water. He made a mental note to tell his friends to never poke worms in puddles ever again either. 

When they arrived at school, the rain had picked up, along with a strong gust of wind, blowing umbrellas inside out and wiping the coats and hats and hair of the people who were wearing them around the front area of the school and the deserted playground. It was early in the morning, enough for there to be not that many students or parents out and about, but Mrs. Tucker and Mr. Mackey had planned this time so that Craig wouldn’t miss any of his actual Kindergarten time. If Craig was allowed to have a say in that, he would have said “let me miss a day or a few hours, I don’t care,” but his mother hadn’t asked him, so they were now stuck with this time.

When they went inside and found the door to Mr. Mackey’s office, they were both surprised to find that they weren’t the only ones at school early. Mrs. Tweak and Tweek were sitting on the wooden bench outside of Mr. Mackey’s office, Tweek sipping from his usual coffee thermos and Mrs. Tweak combing his messy blonde locks almost absentmindedly, as though she was just looking for something to do while she was waiting. 

“Hey Craig!” Tweek waved, although the little crooked smile he was giving off seemed forced and anxious under the circumstances.

“Hi,” Craig replied, “You, uh, seeing Mr. Mackey as well?”

“Y-yeah.” Tweek said, fidgeting on the hard bench, looking just as nervous as Craig felt.

“Oh, Craig told me that Tweek also seemed unhappy in class.” Mrs. Tucker struck up a conversation with Mrs. Tweak, who had one of Tweek’s chubby hands tucked in her own as she combed his hair with the other. 

“Yes, he’s been having a few problems.” Mrs. Tweak replied, absentmindedly tucking a strand of her light brown hair behind one ear, ceasing her combing in the process. “Our meeting isn’t scheduled for a while, but I wanted to get here early, just to be on the safe side.”

“That’s understandable,” Mrs. Tucker said, checking her watch. They were just in time. Mr. Mackey would be arriving at any moment to talk to them. 

“Uh, Mrs. Tucker and Craig Tucker I presume?”

Mrs. Tucker and Craig turned around to face one of the strangest looking men they had ever seen. He was beanpole thin, with a large head and glasses and grey hair. He reminded Craig of the tootsie pops he used to get from his speech therapist in a way. At least in his body shape and head at least. Out of the corner of his eye, Craig could see Mrs. Tweak and Tweek peering at him as well, looking just as put off as he felt. 

“Oh,uh, hello there, you must be Mr. Mackey.” Craig’s mother stammered, recovering from her shock quicker than Craig. 

“Indeed I am.” Mr. Mackey replied, adjusting his tie and peering at Craig, who hid behind his mother’s green dress in a moment of weakness. “And this is young Craig Tucker I presume?”

“”Yes, now go say hi Craig, Mr. Mackey won’t bite.” Mrs. Tucker gave Craig a nudge, pushing him out into the open to let Mr. Mackey see him properly. Craig stood out there, trembling slightly, looking down at the floor and wishing he could turn around and run to Tweek’s side to grab his hand or hide behind his mother again. 

“‘Lo there…” Craig managed to murmur, staring down at his yellow rain boots that matched his coat so well. 

“I won’t force the eye contact on you, m’kay?” Mr. Mackey assured Craig. “Your mother brought up that you weren’t okay with it, is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Craig answered, relieved that his mother had warned Mr. Mackey ahead of time about that. Not all the teachers and students were as informed about this as those close to Craig and his family and friends were, so Craig spent some agonizing time trying to explain that no, don’t make me look you in the eye, it makes me really uncomfortable. His latest excuse for this included him telling people that his reason was “I have lasers that shoot out of eyes and if you look straight into them I’ll kill you.” His mother hadn’t totally approved of that statement, but it worked, and that was all that mattered in the long run. 

“Let’s go inside.” Mr. Mackey coughed, beckoning them towards his office door. “And oh, Mrs. Tweak, I’ll be with you and Tweek within the hour at the latest, m’kay?”

“That’s fine,” Mrs. Tweak nodded politely.

“Good luck.” Tweek hissed in Craig’s ear as he passed him, making Craig hold his head up a little higher as he followed the adults into Mr. Mackey’s office.

It was an average office in every regard, painted the same olive green shade that Craig often saw in offices at his therapy place for some reason. He saw trophies and framed certificates and some gold and silver keys on hooks along the wall behind his enormous desk, but he didn’t see much else to fix his eyes on and instead just stared down at his hands when he and his mother settled down in the two plastic chairs Mr. Mackey had set out for them ahead of time. 

“So,” Mr. Mackey sat down in the chair behind his desk, still looking like a tootsie pop with his strange body proportions. “I figured we should get out of the way the reason we’re all gathered here today, m’kay? I’m sure Craig knows of course, right Mrs. Tucker?”

“Indeed he does.” Mrs. Tucker sighed, thinking back to her husband’s reactions at dinner the previous night. “Craig needs some help, and we’re here to help him get it.”

“You and Mr. Garrison told me it was Asperger’s Syndrome, am I right?” Mr. Mackey asked them, adjusting his glasses. 

“That’s correct.”

“So his problems are related to what he struggles with on a daily business due to his disability, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, that’s most likely it.”

“That what it seems like to me.” Craig piped up, not wanting to disappear in the background and have the grown ups talk about him like he wasn’t there. He had had enough of that last night during dinner from his parents. 

“Alright then…” Mr. Mackey picked up a form letter that Mrs. Tucker had sent to him the previous day. “Craig Thomas Tucker, age five, born January 25, 1989, adopted from Tacna, Peru. Officially became a US citizen September 5, 1989. Diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome at the age of three after a history of exhibiting traits similar to others on the spectrum, some examples including lack of eye contact, late development with language use, and a dislike of physical contact. Is that all correct, Mrs. Tucker?”

“Yes, I got the form letter written up last night so it should be.” Mrs. Tucker shifted in her seat to look over at Craig, who was trying hard not to slouch in his seat out of habit. “Do you know what can be done to help Craig out to make his time in school more bearable for him? I’d hate for him to hate going to school just because he’s uncomfortable in his classroom.” 

“Well, let’s see what I can do…” Mr. Mackey bent over his desk and shuffled through some form letters, all of different colors. Craig could see white, yellow, and the shade of blue his mother used for his information forms at therapy and at school. “Mind if I ask you a few questions Craig?”

“I guess,” Craig shrugged, kicking his dangling feet in the air. 

“Alright, let’s see…” Mr. Mackey shuffled the papers until he seemed to have them in the right order. “First off, can you tell me what bothers you in your everyday life, both in and outside of school?”

“Sounds and people touching me mostly.” Craig admitted. “And weird smells and scratchy clothes and flickering lights.”

“He also doesn’t like eye contact still and talking to others outside of his friends and familiar adults.” Mrs. Tucker added. 

“Hmmm, I see….” Mr. Mackey made some notes on the forms. “How long has it been since you started therapy? Was it right after you got diagnosed?”

“I think I was three.” Craig said. He was pretty sure of that and he saw his mother nod, meaning that he got that fact right at least.

“What kind of therapy was it?”

“Speech, physical, and occupational.” Mrs. Tucker recited, counting them off on her fingers. “He graduated from speech a year ago, but he still goes to physical and occupational therapy to help develop his motor skills and core strength.” 

“And according to Mr. Garrison, his motor skills are an obstacle in class.” Mr. Mackey said, flipping through his papers once more. “Are are disobedience, a lack of being able to stay still, and poor grip when it comes to holding pencils and crayons for example.”

“True.” Mrs.Tucker nodded. “But I wasn’t pleased with his tone on the phone when he called me about it. It was all about how terrible a parent I was and needed to have more control over Craig and discipline him better.” 

“He’s like that to all kids with problems in his class.” Mr. Mackey grumbled. “He complains to me too sometimes about it during staff meetings. It ain’t fun.” 

“Since we’re not here to talk shit about Mr. Garrison,” (Mrs. Tucker looked over at Craig quickly with a finger on her lips to indicate him to not repeat her bad language) “Should we discuss what kind of help that Craig could get in terms of equipment and special education courses?” 

“Oh, oh course.” Mr. Mackey said. He turned around and pulled out yet more forms and a few catalogs on toys and things for kids. Craig wondered just how many forms a teacher needed in their life. (Probably millions he decided) “Some of the equipment we have on hand in the storage rooms here at school, but others may need to be ordered out from various stores, m’kay?” 

“What sort of stuff will I need?” Craig asked, more curious than distressed at the mention of equipment since he was used to it already at therapy. He had used a variety of things that helped out his motor control and physical strength over the years, some of which he had enjoyed, some of which he had tolerated, and some of which he had refused to touch at all. 

“For your grip and penmanship, you’ll need a pencil grip and a slant board. Luckily, we have both of those on hand in the storage room.” Mr. Mackey opened up one of the catalogs and showed him some pictures.  
The grip looked like a mound of purple squishy plastic stuck to the middle of a pencil, while the slant was exactly what it looked like: like a clipboard, but slanted upwards. 

“They look alright.” Craig concluded, not wanting to admit that neither of them appealed to him. “What else do I need?”

“Well, I highly recommend headphones to muffle sounds that are too overwhelming.” Mr. Mackey told him, flipping through the catalog again for something in particular. “And moon sand is a popular stim these days, I’ll give you some to try out when you leave. And like I was telling Mrs. Tweak a few days ago, these special “wiggle” seats are great for children like you and Tweek who can’t seem to sit still.” 

Craig felt like he had been hit over the head with a frying pan, the shock was so bad. He had seen it coming, yet he hadn’t all at the same time.“T-Tweek’s getting help like me too?” He managed to stammer. 

“Of course.” Mr. Mackey looked surprised at Craig’s expression. “Tweek got diagnosed with ADD and Anxiety just two days ago. That’s why he and his mother are outside my office-to get similar help like the help you’re getting right now.” 

“I don’t even know what ADD means!” Craig groaned, feeling like the world was crashing down around him. He had been hanging out with Tweek just two days ago-why hadn’t he told him? Tweek told him almost everything, even the things he didn’t let his own mother know, so why not this, of all things? When it was something so important that it changed the course of his life? He knew deep down that he was overreacting about this, but he didn’t care. He was hurt that for once, when it came down to something so important, he had been left in the dark to continue wondering just what was wrong with his little blonde friend. 

“Craig?” His mother asked him, turning to him with a concerned look written on her face. That was the final straw for Craig. 

“Leave me alone!” Craig snapped, getting up from his chair and leaving Mr. Mackey’s office, slamming the door behind him, running as fast as his legs could carry him to the school’s front door, not caring where he was going or what he was going to do next, feeling so stupidly hurt about this that he couldn’t think of anything else. 

He ignored his mother and Mr. Mackey’s protesting yells to open the school’s front door and slip out into the now pouring rain, not caring that he would get soaked, not caring that he was getting dangerously close to a meltdown, just not caring about anything at all.


	10. Baby Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot I reached Chapter 10! That's an accomplishment, so thank you guys so much for the support! <33  
> -I'm going away to Florida for a week tomorrow and while I can write on my phone, I CAN'T update, so there won't be any updates until I get back. Sorry guys!  
> -I actually cried while writing the part with Craig's mom singing to him, idk why, I'm proud of that part  
> -And also a title drop LE GASP. You'll see now just WHY I chose the name "the Wrong Planet" for the fic. It's a real thing that many aspies feel, so Craig is not alone in this
> 
> Anyway, um, I hope you guys enjoy! <33

Craig didn’t know where he was going, or how long he kept moving. He knew South Park well by now, but he was so blinded in his rage and the combination of the rain and his tears that he couldn’t see where he was going. All he knew was that he just needed to keep going and to get far away, far away from his family, from intruding teachers, from friends who apparently weren’t so friendly as they claimed after all.

But he especially felt the need to get away from Tweek.

Tweek, his very first friend ever, the boy whom he was “twitterpated” with, who’s soft golden hair and freckles and pretty green eyes with their long lashes that he loved to stare at whenever Tweek lowered his eyelids to blink. Who’s cute little crooked grin made butterflies stir and flutter in his belly. Who was just...he didn’t even know how to describe his feelings for his friend, but he just felt differently about him than he felt towards Token and Clyde.

But despite being so special, Tweek had still managed to make him feel hurt and left in the dark about something that maybe, held the key to his behaviour that made Craig so concerned for him all the time.

Tweek knew he had Asperger's and he had mentioned his problems to him before, so why didn’t Tweek tell him about his own problems in more specific detail? It didn’t seem fair at all. 

The longer Craig thought about this, the more rage filled and upset he became, shaking all over, dripping wet and tired and confused all rolled into one. When he tripped and hit his head against something hard, he didn’t let it bother him for once, not caring to try and look up to see what he had smacked his head into. He just fell to the ground and slipped into unconsciousness, glad to be free from his normal muddled thought processes for at least a little while, slipping into the darkness.

Craig didn’t dream when he was unconscious. Instead, he had a flashback of something that had happened when he was much younger, something that he had forgotten all about until now. He didn’t know what he had done to make it come up so suddenly like this again, but the bump on the head probably was the cause he concluded. 

He saw it all in the way that very small children do when they’re trying to make sense of the confusing world around them: he was on the cusp of turning three years old and wasn’t diagnosed yet, and as per the norm of his behavior back then, he was having a horrible meltdown. Of his long history with them, he could easily conclude that this one was easily one of his most severe. He couldn’t control his limbs, flapping and thrashing around wildly, hitting and knocking things over in his living room. His head knocked against the floor, the banging making him see stars. He couldn’t talk or tell anyone what he was feeling or WHY he was feeling like he had to tear everything apart in the living room. Everything was just a mess of intense crashing and banging noises and strange brightly colored blurs and voices that garbled, but trickled through his ears like maple syrup, leaving him unable to understand just what they were saying, or if they were even talking to him at all.

Craig didn’t even know what had triggered him and it probably could have been anything. Some examples back then that had triggered him into his meltdowns were either simple things like his favorite toy car being put away in a spot where he couldn’t find it or the washing machine’s vibrations shaking the house. All he knew was that whatever it was, everything had come crashing down on top of him and he was so overwhelmed that it had exploded out of his body in shrill screams and wild, twitching, and out of control limb movements. 

“Craig, Craig honey, can you hear me?”

His mother’s voice was the only one that didn’t sound garbled in his overwhelmed ears. She was also the only thing in the room in his sight that didn’t appear a mess of odd blobs and colors. Craig wanted to reach out to her, to ask for help, to tell her that yes, he COULD hear her, but no words came out of his mouth, and his out of control limbs flew up without warning and tried to kick her in the face. Luckily, they missed, but his Mother’s horrified face made him swim with horror over what he had tried to do. He wished he could reverse everything and stop himself from having his meltdown, from having any of the meltdowns he had ever had in his short life, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything at all. 

“Craig, please calm down, please honey, please…”

He felt his mother’s arms holding him down, her touch like fire on his skin and he hollered louder, wanting her to get off him, to let him move, for anything was better than the overwhelming feeling he got from physical interaction that way. But he mother didn’t let go of him, holding him down so that he couldn’t break anything else or hurt himself even further. He kept on screaming, but his mother refused to let him go, not even for a second. When she picked him up and hugged him to her chest, holding him tightly against her, he squirmed wildly and tried to beat his fists across her back, trying to force her to let him free, but another person came into clarity when he tried that: his father, who held his wrists tightly with his huge sturdy hands.

“Laura, I got him, don’t worry.” His father’s voice was also now clear to him, sounding determined and reassuring. He sounded worried for both his wife’s safety and his child’s erratic behavior. 

“Thomas, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, this is the second time this week he’s done this…” His mother’s voice sounded so worn, so tired for someone who looked so young. Craig felt bad and wanted to tell her that he was sorry for something that was so out of his control, but once again, he couldn’t. No longer able to thrash and whirl his limbs about, he broke down crying, screaming and sobbing, tears falling thick and fast down his face, his little body quaking against his mother’s chest. 

“Bring him upstairs.” Craig’s father told his mother. “Maybe being in bed will help.”

“I’ll give it a try.” 

Craig was too busy screaming to notice that his father had let go of his wrists and that he was being carried upstairs. He sobbed louder, but he mother didn’t stop until she was in his bedroom. She laid him down in his toddler bed on his stomach, holding his arms down again so that he couldn’t accidentally back hand her. His legs tried to kick, but she pushed them back down so he laid still, the deep pressure making him panic and sob. When he tried to bang his head against his plastic headboard, she pressed him back down, further away from it so that he couldn’t hurt himself.

“Shhhh, sweetheart, it’s alright.” His mother soothed, rubbing his back in a gentle rhythm. This touch wasn’t nearly as overwhelming to take in so his limbs began to slow, to weaken like they normally did when he wore himself out. When the touching stopped and he was flipped over onto his back like an overturned crab, he hollered and winced at his mother’s intense eye contact, but wasn’t able to do anything. She continued her stroking, tucking his messy black locks of hair behind his ears and rubbing his cheeks. Craig’s eyes began to droop, his limbs felt like wet spaghetti noodles, the last of his tears escaping his damp eyes in little streams.

“Oh sweetheart…” his mother soothed, still touching his baby soft cheeks. “I wish I could understand your pain...I wish I knew what makes you hurt yourself like that...I just wish I knew how to reach out to you…”

Craig wished too, that he could figure out what made his limbs turn into a hurricane that destroyed everything in sight or screams come out of his mouth as shrill as a fire engine siren. He wished he could tell her that he was just as lost as she was, trapped in his own little bubble, unable to break free from the pain and the solitude he was submerged underneath. 

He wished he could tell her he loved her. 

Through his half closed eyelids, he could see his mother’s lips moving as she began to sing a lullaby, a lullaby that he remembered back from his very early baby days. She didn’t sing very much and he had overheard his father say it was because she was shy about it. But here she was now, singing to him in a quiet, but soothing voice. 

“Baby mine, don’t you cry…baby mine, dry your eyes….” 

He shut his eyes and let his mother’s sweet voice wash over him, the melody soothing to his finely tuned in ears. 

“Rest your head, close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine…” 

He felt his mother’s weight shift and he was picked up, carried somewhere, and when she sat down, he realized they were in the rocking chair in the corner of his bedroom. She rocked him back and fourth in her arms, the movement soft and gentle, a sensation that calmed him and made him feel feather light and free of his struggles, for just a second. She continued the lullaby as she rocked him, her heartbeat a soft lul against Craig’s cheek. Craving this soft affection under the influence of the rocking, he snuggled closer to her, soaking in every word, drinking them up like he was a man in the desert who had just found a pond of water. 

“Little one, when you play. Don’t you mind, what they say.” 

Craig knew they, the people outside of his family, minded very much. He saw their angry looks, the looks that made him want to curl up and hide from the world behind his mother’s long skirts.

“Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine…” 

He felt weightless and free, like he would float away into dreamland at any second, the longer his mother sang to him. 

“If they knew, sweet little you. They’d end up loving you too. All those people who scold you, what they’d give, just for the...the…”

His mother’s voice choked and Craig could tell, even with his eyes shut, that she was trying to hold back her tears. The tears that she wanted to shed in her grief over her son and the challenges he faced everyday in his life. 

“...right to hold you…” His mother finished, a wet drop falling onto Craig cheek. She wiped it away with the pad of her thumb and kept going, her voice softer and slightly shaky now.

“From your head, down to your toes...you’re not much, goodness knows…”

Craig was slipping further into his sleepy state, but he knew his mother was almost through, so he tried to hold out for just a minute longer, just for the sake of hearing her words that were so full of love and pain. 

“But you’re so precious to me, sweet as can be...b-baby of...mine…” 

As her voice trailed off, his exhaustion from his meltdown finally took hold of him and he passed out, remembering no more of what had happened that day, except for the feelings he mother tried to convey for him in her song, in the song she had hoped would break through his barriers for him to understand just how much he meant to her.

She loved him and would love him still no matter what happened. And she would do anything for him. That’s what Craig got from her song. And as Craig drifted off in his sleep that night, limbs aching from his wild meltdown, shivering from how weak the crying had made him feel physically and emotionally, he promised that as soon as he could, he’d tell his mother how much she meant to him.  
But now he could tell her and he hadn’t. Not once. 

“C-craig? Are you a-alive?”

Craig opened one eye, wincing at the pain that was shooting up the back up his head. He recognized that voice, he knew it very well in fact.

He opened both eyes and was face to face with Tweek. Tweek was kneeling down next to him and in Craig’s sorry state, he looked like a little angel. Perhaps he actually was an angel and Craig was dead, but when Craig tried to move, he felt sore and achy all over, from what, he could barely remember. He wore a light green raincoat decorated with big bulbous eyes on the back, like a frog’s eyes, and from the way his hair looked, half dry and half wet, he must have just pulled his hood down. His big eyes were shining with concern and what seemed to be tears, or perhaps it was from the dampness of the day. His arms trembled as they held something out to him. Craig blinked and realized it was Tweek’s coffee thermos, a gesture that spoke a thousand words. Craig took it from him and gulped down some of the hot, bitter liquid, trying hard to not gag at the taste. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, but it was warm enough to send feeling back to the tips of his fingers and toes and send renewed energy to his sore and foggy brain.

Sore? Oh right, it was all flooding back to him now. He had run away and hit his head on something and conked out. By the looks of it, he was in the woods by Stark’s pond and had tripped over a tree root and hit his head against an oak tree. He could see little bits of rain seeping through the thick canopy of leaves, but otherwise the woods were mostly dry. 

“You didn’t tell me,” Craig choked out, his tongue thick in his mouth.

“Tell you what?” Tweek asked him, cocking his head in confusion.

“That you found out what your problems were.” Craig tried to sit up, but could only manage to lean himself more securely against the very tree that he had been knocked out by. 

“What?” Tweek asked him again, clearly bewildered.

“D-don’t lie to me…” Craig gasped, wincing as he felt pain shoot towards the back of his head. He handed Tweek his empty thermos before continuing. “Y-you found out what was making you so twitchy and nervous all the time and didn't bother telling me…” 

Tweek’s face fell when it dawned on him what Craig was trying to imply. He looked so sad, like a puppy left out in the rain, that Craig felt horrible for what he had just said to him. He couldn’t feel so angry at Tweek when he was looking so innocent yet so pathetic all at once. 

“I-I wanted to tell you…” Tweek admitted quietly. “B-but I was scared when I was told by the doctors...it just felt like...everything became clear but the world crashed around me all at once, you know?”  
Craig nodded in understanding. He knew how that felt. His Asperger's had been better explained to him shortly after he had started preschool and that was the very same reaction he had felt when it had all become clearer to him. It had all made sense, but it hadn’t been an easy truth to swallow down despite knowing more about his issues would help him improve, kinda like bitter medicine in a way, he supposed. Bitter medicine was hard to swallow, but it went on to becoming beneficial later on down the line. 

“Do you even know what this ADD thing is?” Craig asked him. The anxiety was easy to figure out, but what the hell did ADD mean? 

“Sorta…” Tweek shrugged, shaking raindrops out of his hair, making it turn back into his usual untidy tresses. “I-I think it kinda makes me distracted and twitchy, like I need to be on the go constantly. I can’t seem to focus and erm, I just need to squirm or else I’m uncomfortable.”

“You do all those things.” Craig added, a bit obviously. The diagnosis of ADD made sense in that regard. “So I guess you really do have this...ADD thing…”

“Y-yeah.” Tweek said, squirming a bit as his kneeling gave way to sitting next to Craig on the wet ground. 

“Did you tell anyone else about it?” Craig asked him.

“No, you’re the first.” Tweek said, brushing raindrops off his raincoat. “We’ll, you’re the first to know of my friends. Mama informed my other doctors and Mr. Garrison and Mr. Mackey right after she found out. She told me the sooner they found out, the better it would be for me.”

“That’s how I found out about it.” Craig admitted. “Mr. Mackey let it slip and I got upset because you hadn’t told me when you first found out.”

“Like I said, I-I did want to tell you, I was just too scared to know how to bring it up.” Tweek bowed his head slightly, enough so that Craig could see the fine roots of his pretty blonde hair and every delicate lash of his long eyelashes. 

“I shouldn’t have freaked, I’m sorry…” Craig said, feeling ashamed about his dramatic behavior from earlier. “I-I just get worried for you a lot and that was a big part of my worries.”

“Me being so twitchy and anxious a lot makes you worried for me?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Tweek’s cheeks were tinged with bubblegum pink blush, making him look really sweet and cute in Craig’s eyes. He looked rather flattered. “Y-you were really concerned about me if you ran all the way here from school to cry about it.”

“And hit my head against a tree.” Craig added, rubbing the lump that was forming on his head. It seemed alright, at least there was no blood when Craig trailed his fingers over it. When he got home, he knew his mother would ice it for him, tying the bag around his head like a bicycle helmet until she was certain he was better and didn’t need it anymore. 

“Any boo boos?” It was the same question that Tweek had asked him back when they met in Preschool just over a year ago. Craig replied the same way he had back then too. 

“I’ll live.”  
Silence fell between them, the only noises being the pitter patter of rain falling on the ground and leaves and the whooshing of the wind through the trees. Craig shifted his position so that he and Tweek could get a bit closer together under the oak tree, sheltered from the rain by it’s tall branches and thick canopy of green leaves, starting to turn yellow at the ends to signify that autumn would be here before they knew it. 

The movement started Tweek and he stared back at Craig as though he couldn’t believe it.

“This is unusual for you.” Tweek commented when their fingers accidentally brushed, they were so close together now. Craig could hear Tweek’s breathing get faster, but his twitching slowed down slightly. 

“I might as well keep trying to improve my Asperger's stuff,” Craig shrugged, which was indeed what his intent had been when he moved in on Tweek. 

“Right, Asperger's stuff…” Tweek murmured, picking up a damp leaf off the ground. There were tiny raindrops clinging to the ends as he ran his thumb over it, the drops breaking when they made contact. “Craig, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, why not.” Craig replied, wondering what Tweek wanted to ask him about after his realizations of his problems. 

“You keep saying you’re sensitive to stuff like sounds and touch and you don’t feel too much pain from getting cuts…” Tweek began, looking too nervous to continue. 

“Go on,” Craig urged him, wanting to hear what he had to say. 

Tweek swallowed, “Um, what I’m trying to say is...is there more to having Aspergers? What does it feel like, like, as a whole?”

“Um, well…” Craig leaned his aching head back on the tree as he thought about how to put it. He had never been asked how it was to be, well, him, and why he sometimes acted off compared to kids like Token or Stan, who were generally well mannered, practically angels compared to the likes of himself. But he did spend a lot of time in his own head, thinking and thinking, and the answer came to him quicker than he expected it too. Perhaps, looking back later, he had been very influenced by his special interest in all things outer space related to come up with the metaphor he used to explain it to Tweek.

“Having Asperger's is like...living on the wrong planet.” Craig began, taking a deep breath, prepared to talk more. “Like, imagine that you crash land on an alien planet and it’s a whole new world, with all these strange people and things. Everything’s louder, or the clothing there pinches and scratches when you try it on, or someone eats something and it smells so bad you can’t think. When you want to talk to people, you don’t know how and the words get all garbled up, or you say the wrong thing and they get mad.”

“I don’t get mad,” Tweek piped up, his voice small.

“No, you don’t,” Craig smiled and rubbed his fingers through Tweek’s hair, the soft texture under his fingertips helping him stay steady as he continued. “But others do. I hear them. They think I don’t listen but I do, I take in everything in hope that something will help me figure out how to navigate this strange planet. But it’s hard, it’s so hard sometimes that I end up losing my shit, to put it that way, and have a meltdown over something that wouldn’t bother anyone normal, but it bothers ME.”

“Like what brings you into a meltdown specifically?” Tweek asked

“It can be anything.” Craig shrugged. “My juice being served in the wrong cup, my favorite Red Racer shirt getting so worn out I can’t wear it anymore, or Mommy picking me up from school fifteen minutes later than usual. I don’t like change, it stresses me out and then it all comes crashing down around me and it feels like the end of the world.”

“Anything else that can do it too?” 

“Sometimes if a loud noise goes on for too long or a light won’t stop flickering, it sets me off too.” Craig explained. “And if you or Clyde are out sick or something, that makes me panic too.”

“So just like the time you bit Miss Claridge after I had to leave because I threw up in class?”

“Exactly,” Craig nodded, glad that Tweek still remembered that. That incident was still clear as day to him at times and it wasn’t fun to relive. 

“I’m like that as well.” Tweek whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“I-I get upset when you’re not at school.” Tweek added on, his pink blush turning a rosy red. “Like back when you got the upset tummy stuff in preschool, right before Miss Claridge caught on fire. I felt really really lonely and although I did have fun with Token and Clyde anyway, it felt like something was...missing.”

“And…?” Craig urged him, even though he could tell exactly what Tweek was going to say.

“...I realized it was you being out that made me feel that way.” Tweek covered his face with his hands, making a small wailing noise into them. “I-I felt so lost without you next to me! I got so dependent on you I suddenly couldn’t do anything without you next to me! It was so scary!”

“Dude, I feel that way even when I’m not having a meltdown about it.” Craig said, before he even realized what he saying and clapped his hands to his mouth, turning just as red as Tweek. But it was the truth for him too. Things were much easier with Tweek by his side, but when he wasn’t, he felt more lost than usual on this strange planet. 

“Ahhh...I guess we feel the same way,” Tweek giggled when they dared to look at each other a few minutes later. Craig was sure his face was a mirror image of Tweek’s own blushing cheeks and wide eyes, although he his own eyes were smaller and blue and maybe didn’t have the same shy sparkle that Tweek’s did. 

He looked so cute at that moment with his rosy cheeks and sparkling green eyes that Craig decided to take a chance and try to do something he hadn’t dared do since Ruby’s newborn days when he had the surprise big brother party. He learned forward to look Tweek in the eye, which was so unusual already that it caught Tweek off guard and he looked alarmed, as though this wasn’t the real Craig and just some sort of impostor. 

“Y-you alright there Craig?” Tweek asked him, one of his eyes twitching like it usually did. 

“Yeah…” Craig murmured, not really paying attention as he leaned in to try and kiss Tweek’s cheek. But before he could, a loud shout broke the silence and he jerked away, Tweek seemingly distracted now by the thundering footsteps of their mothers. Craig turned around in time to see them rush towards them, looking disheveled with their coats unbuttoned and their hair askew.

“Craig!” His mother rushed over to him and hugged him tight against her chest, leaving him breathless. “Oh thank goodness, I was so worried about you!”

“Tweek honey, thank goodness you’re alright dear.” Tweek’s mother bent down and kissed his cheeks. “But don’t do that ever again! You left me anxious beyond belief!”

“I’m sorry Mama, but Craig needed help!” Tweek protested. “He was upset so I gave him coffee and we talked until he felt better.”

“That was very lovely of you Tweek, but,” Mrs. Tucker turned to glare at Craig, who flinched under her gaze, “We must part ways now as I need to get Craig home before anything else.”

“Alright then, let’s hope these two don’t catch any colds.” Mrs. Tweak said absentmindedly. 

The two mothers took the hands of their sons and let them away in opposite directions, leaving them only enough time to wave goodbye and mouth “I’ll see you at school later!” before they vanished from sight

Craig had apparently been gone so long, he had missed school entirely. So instead of rejoining class, he was taken straight home and put in a hot bath, his mother scolding him all the while as she cleaned him up and drove the chill out of his bones. The lump on his head had gone down by now so he didn’t need any ice for it, just rest. 

“You shouldn’t have done that Craig!” She kept at it even while she was scrubbing citrus scented shampoo into his hair. Craig tried to squirm away from her because his rubber ducks and toy sailboat had drifted to the other end of the tub and he wanted to get them, but she was relentless. 

“I’m sorry Mommy but-ow!-I got upset! Tweek and I cleared it up! It’s fine now!”

“I’m glad, but you could have gotten seriously hurt out there! You should consider yourself lucky that you only came out of this mess with a bump on the head and the beginnings of a cold.” 

“I’m not gonna catch a cold,” Craig insisted as he tried to stifle a sneeze. Darn it, he had jinxed himself. 

“Either way, I wish you had the sense to not run away like that.” Mrs. Tucker clicked her tongue as she unhooked the shower head and rinsed the shampoo out, making Craig splutter when she accidentally aimed it at his face. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” she apologize, turning around to grab a towel for him that she had perched on the toilet. She helped him out and rubbed him all over, fluffing out his hair too. 

“You go downstairs after you get dressed, okay?” Mrs. Tucker told him. “Daddy’s fixing you hot milk and chicken noodle soup.”

“‘Kay” Craig mumbled through the towel, leaving the bathroom to walk down the hall to his bedroom to change.

A few hours later, Craig was full and sleepy and his mother was reading a story to him in the rocking chair that he still had from maybe even before his memories from earlier. He had learned enough words over the previous week to be able to read out a few of them from the book for his mother. (They were “girl” and “bug” and a few others) When his mother finished the book, she carried him to bed and tucked him in.

“Mommy, am I going to get punished for what I did?” Craig asked, wiping his now runny nose with a tissue from the box on his nightstand. 

“No dear, you’re sick now, so I don’t really see the point.” Mrs. Tucker sat on the foot of his bed and sighed. “But I still wish you hadn’t done that. You really had me worried you know.”

“I’m sorry.” Craig said, for maybe the hundredth time that evening. “I let my anger get the best of me, I guess…”

“You’re only five sweetheart, you still have a lot of time to learn how to handle your emotions better.” Mrs. Tucker assured him, stroking his cheek. 

“Am I a bad kid Mommy?” Craig suddenly asked her. He knew that between his meltdowns and emotional issues and his knack for getting into trouble, it could mean that he could be considered one. He knew Mr. Garrison probably did, probably gossiped about it to the other teachers during staff meetings. 

“No honey, you’re not any worse than any other kid your age.” Mrs. Tucker smiled.

“B-but my meltdowns!-”

“You can’t control those honey. They’re not like tantrums, when they’re acting out on purpose to get attention. There’s a difference and I know you would never do it for attention.”

“I guess you’re right…” Craig sighed, gripping the ends of his comforter. He thought back to Tweek vaguely and wondered if he had also caught a cold too. It wasn’t unlikely.

“Cheer up, it’s alright Craig.” Mrs. Tucker kissed his other cheek. “I still love you no matter what, my baby of mine.” 

The last part made Craig remember back to the memory he had hallucinated while knocked out, and as she got up off his bed to turn out the light, he tugged on her bathrobe.

“Yes Craig?” She asked, turning around. Craig looked at her, how worn out she looked, her blonde hair sticking up and her grey eyes tired and ready to shut at any moment. He felt so bad for her, yet he had never loved her more than he did then. She cared for him and loved him thick and through, gave him food and love and the help he needed to get through his struggles. She deserved more than just a few words, but a few words were better than the times when he couldn’t say any

“I love you so much, Mommy.” Craig blurted out, hoping his words sounded like he really meant it. He tried, he had so much more he wanted to say but he didn’t know how to say it, so this was the best he could say it to her in person.

He looked down at his comforter again, worried when she didn’t answer right away, when he felt her arms around him, taking him into a warm and comforting hug that felt good, not pressuring.

“I love you so much too, Craig.”


	11. Sick as Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I'm still keeping up my own personal goal of updating at least once a month, but man, I hit the WORST writer's block while working on this chapter. I ended up deleting some stuff and broke the stuff up with Mr. Mackey into the next chapter of the fic aughh. 
> 
> I really don't have much to say here except that while this is mostly filler and build up for later, I hope you guys enjoy it! You were pretty darn patient, so I say you earned it for sure!

Just like his mother had predicted, Craig did indeed catch a cold. He was stuck in bed for about four days after his desperate escape to the woods in the pouring rain, sneezing and wiping at his runny nose with tissues that hurt his skin and rubbed the ends of his nostrils red and raw. When his mother saw the state his nose was in, she ran out and bought softer tissues that didn’t hurt when Craig used them, or smelled sickeningly sweet like lavender like the old ones had also smelled like.

He passed the time with things he normally did on days when he wasn’t sick. He had Stripe crawl around the covers for short intervals throughout the day and flipped through his favorite picture books or doodled with magic markers and paper on the tray table his mother also used for his food and drinks. So he was far from bored, but he did feel, for maybe the first time in a while, rather lonely.

He didn’t miss being in class, not at all, and he especially didn’t miss Mr.Garrison, but he did miss seeing Token, Clyde, and Tweek on a daily basis. All three of them had sent him crudely drawn get well cards, which he had perched on his dresser to remind himself that they were still thinking of him, but it wasn’t the same as being with them, talking to them. Social interaction was what he was craving most during the time of his cold (He couldn’t interact with Ruby all that much either since her immune system was weaker) and he wished his friends could come up and visit, but Clyde got sick easily and Token wasn’t going to try and risk it either. And Tweek was out of the question because when he asked his mother, she said that he had also caught a cold, the same one that had walloped Craig. Craig felt bad because it was technically his fault that Tweek had gotten it too and he asked his mother if they could still visit since they were both sick, but she told him no straight away.

“You need your rest dear,” his mother said when he tried to protest this, squirming under his blankets as he huffed out his indignation. “Tweek does too. You’ll see him again when you’re both better.”

“That feels like it will be forever at this rate.” Craig grumbled, slumping back onto his pillow. It was day two of his cold and he was already restless, shifting his positions in bed frequently and making dry complaints to his mother over little things, like not putting nutella on his toast despite her telling him that he couldn’t have it because he was sick. 

“It’s only been a few days honey, you’ll be better in a day or two.” Mrs. Tucker sighed as she thought about two more days of this. Craig was a terror when he was sick, and she usually took his good health for granted. It came with more positive energy and better spirits, not with this little grouch who complained about the littlest things that didn’t even matter a few hours later. 

“Can Tweek and I talk on the phone maybe?” Craig suggested. “I just want to hear his voice.”

“His nose is stuffed up like yours, it won’t sound very clear on the phone.”

“Since when did voices sound clear on phones anyway?”

“True, but still…” Mrs. Tucker pursed her lips, sighing, wondering how she was going to handle this situation. “Like I said, you’re both sick. I’ll call Tweek’s mother and ask about the phones, but if she says no, that’s that. Okay?”

“Okay.” Craig repeated, turning over onto his side to stare at a crack in the wall just below his biggest Red Racer poster. He wished Tweek lived next door, like Clyde did. He and Clyde had set up a string with a basket that they passed back and forth to each other out their bedroom windows. It was an idea that Claire had come up with, and Craig was forever thankful for it. It made communicating with Clyde go much faster, even if all they could do was send little notes with crude scribbles and drawings to indicate what they wanted to say to each other. Maybe once they learned to read and write, it would work better. 

Mrs. Tucker called Mrs. Tweak, and unfortunately, she also said no to the idea of the two of them having a phone conversation or a visit to either of their houses. Tweek had gotten hit by the cold hard and was exhausted. He needed his rest more than he needed a conversation on the phone with anyone, even if it was Craig.

“But Mrs. Tweak said that Tweek wanted to give you something. She’ll be stopping by to deliver it this afternoon. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Craig said, wondering just what Tweek wanted to give him. He had no idea what it could be, so by the time he heard the doorbell ring downstairs a few hours later, he was still puzzling over it, even as he listened intently to the conversation that his mother and Tweek’s mother were having in the doorway. He could hear it all through his open bedroom window. 

“Oh thank you Jane, he’ll love it!” Craig’s mother was saying to Mrs. Tweak. “Give Tweek my love and I hope he feels better soon.”

“As do I, he’s been really riled up about Craig, wondering if he had somehow passed on the cold to him. I told him it was the rain and he still thinks it was all his fault! Can you believe that?”

“He’s concerned and a bit anxious about it, that’s all.” Mrs. Tucker said. “Craig’s been a nightmare to deal with, complaining about everything and just asking for communication with Tweek in some form.” 

“Oh dear. We’d better get these boys better before they both drive us up the walls!”

They both started laughing at that comment. Craig wanted to run over to the window and yell at them that he had overheard every little bit of their conversation and wasn’t amused by what he heard, but he didn’t. He just felt glad that Tweek was still thinking about him, even when he was as sick as a dog like he was. 

“Either way,” Mrs. Tucker was trying hard not to burst into laughter again, from what Craig could tell from the way her voice wheezed. “I’ll bring this up straight away. Thank you so much!”

Craig heard his mother’s footsteps ascend the staircase and he laid back in his bed, pretending as though he hadn’t heard a word of their conversation when she came in. 

“Look Craig,” she cooed, placing something onto his lap. “Look what Tweek wanted you to have!”

Craig stared down at the gift in disbelief, because it was not something he had expected at all from him.

It was a stuffed bunny rabbit that Craig recognized from Tweek’s bedroom, since he had noticed it perched on his dresser a few times. It was a light sky blue, made with thick and soft fabric that felt good under Craig’s fingertips. The insides of the ears were pink and it had a tiny pink nose and stitched on white whiskers. Around it’s neck, there was a velvety pink bow of the same shade with a note tucked into it, written on stationery that was decorated with Tweek’s favorite Sanrio character, Keroppi. 

“What does it say Mommy?” Craig asked her when she took it up and held it up to the sunlight that was streaming through his window. 

“It seems to be that Tweek has his mother dictate it out for him.” Mrs. Tucker said as she squinted at the tiny, but tidy, printed letters. 

“Yeah, but what does it say?” Craig asked her, getting impatient.

“Slow down, let me read it, okay, here we go…” Mrs. Tucker cleared her throat as she read out the little note.

“Dear Craig, I wanted you to have this because I noticed you didn’t have many stuffed animals in your room like I do and I thought you’d be lonely while you were sick. I mean, you have Stripe of course, but still! He’s fussy about being touched, like you are. So I figured a stuffed animal would be nice because you could hug it and it wouldn’t complain and you could feel something nice and not feel upset either. Sorry for rambling but anyway! I hope you enjoy this bunny a lot!”  
From, Tweek.

Craig kinda wished that Tweek had ended the note with “love” instead, but he was so touched by how thoughtful Tweek was, he didn’t mind. He buried his nose between the rabbit’s ears and could smell where Tweek’s face and hands had been on it, when he probably asked his mother if he could give it to Craig. It touched him that Tweek had thought to give him one of his own stuffed animals instead of some anonymous new one that smelled too much like a department store to be cozy and cuddly. He had never been a huge fan of stuffed animals, but he wanted to treasure this one forever and never let it go.

“That was so sweet of him, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Tucker commented, patting Craig on the head. 

“Yeah…” Craig cuddled the rabbit closer to his chest and gave it a squeeze. Perhaps it was a good thing that they both both gotten sick. If they hadn’t, how else would this bunny come into Craig’s possession?

The rest of Craig’s time in bed passed much smoother after the arrival of the bunny. He was in a better mood and stopped complaining to his mother, even when she forced bitter tasting cold medicine down his throat. He snuggled the bunny as he slept and during the times that he didn’t want to bother Stripe, he would talk to the bunny, just like he talked to Stripe when he was alone. Just like Stripe, the stuffed bunny was easy to talk too, since he didn’t have to concentrate on his tone of voice, or if the words came out right, or if he could read the expression that the person he was talking to had on their face. That’s why talking to animals and inanimate objects was so much easier than talking to strangers. 

“I’m not even sure what to call you…” Craig told the bunny, his finger running over the bunny’s sweet face. “I’ll have to ask Tweek when we go back to school. Did you even have a name...back when you lived with him?”

Of course, that was a silly question to ask, since he wouldn’t be able to get an answer, but he asked anyway, wondering out loud to himself if anything. He’d just have to wait and ask Tweek about it later.

A few days after the bunny’s arrival, Craig was nearly fully recovered, aside from a slight cough and a drippy nose. Otherwise, he was no longer contagious. 

“All clear.” Mrs. Tucker gave him a thumbs up after she looked him over on Friday night, shortly after his bath. He was in clean Pjs and was waiting on his mother’s approval on his health before he did anything else. “You’ll be back in school by Monday!”

“That’s great.” Craig told her and he wasn’t even lying about it. He was ready to be out of bed and be up and about, to be able to talk to his friends again. Heck, even Mr. Garrison would be a welcome change to just being shut inside his room all day. He used to think it would be fun to be inside all day, but now he could see that it was more boring than he had originally thought it would be. 

“Oh, by the way dear, Mr. Mackey called me while you were down for the count and said that as soon as you were better, he wanted to meet with us again to help you learn how to work your new equipment and stim things for class. If we go in early again on Monday, we’ll have extra time to help you get used to them. How does that sound?”

“Sounds alright.” Craig said, wincing when he thought about how that meeting had ended. 

“You don’t look alright Craig.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I’ll be glad too…” Craig sighed, leaning over the sink to squirt toothpaste on his toothbrush. He was so tall now, he didn’t need his stool anymore. Just standing on his toes was enough for him to reach the faucet. 

“Okay honey, but if you have any second thoughts about the extra time on it, let me know. I don’t want to force you if you’re unhappy about this.”

“Mmmph.” Craig’s mouth was too filled with his minty toddler toothpaste for him to speak clearly. He did want to do this because he knew it would help, but he was wondering if Tweek would be coming in with him, considering he also needed a wiggle seat for class. Maybe he’d be going in on a different day at a different time, but Craig wouldn’t know unless he showed up at the same time as him.

Because Tweek was still sick (But would be better by Monday, Mrs. Tucker assured him) and Mrs. Tucker needed to catch up on housework and some doctor appointment for Ruby, Craig ended up spending the weekend hanging out at Clyde’s house next door. The two of them labored intensely over a massive and intricate hot wheels track course that wasn’t finished until Sunday afternoon. It went all the way from the attic down into Clyde’s room and then into the living room, where the cars got dumped somewhere behind the easy chair. It worked perhaps a bit too well, for they sent cars down it so frequently that one of them hit Claire’s lip as she was passing through the upstairs hallway (where it traveled through to the living room) before they could warn her. She had to be rushed to the emergency room for some stitches and Clyde and Craig were forced to demolish the track before anyone else got hurt. Clyde cried as they put away the last pieces.

“It was the best thing we ever made.” He sniffed as he gathered up stray cars that were scattered about his room and throughout the upstairs hallway and living room. Since Clyde’s mother didn’t know that it had started in the attic, they were leaving the remaining pieces up there in case they wanted to recreate it again one day. 

“It was until we got in trouble for it.” Craig pointed out, still thinking about Claire’s split, bleeding lip. She came home with three stitches, but seemed fine otherwise and would be getting them out within a few weeks. “Besides, I stepped on a car myself and got a cut on my big toe on Saturday afternoon, so maybe it’s for the better.”

“You didn’t tell me you got hurt.” Clyde said, looking alarmed.

“Well I didn’t want to ruin our fun, I guess.” That was part of the truth. The other part was that Craig was so numb to the pain on his toe that he hadn’t even noticed it for several hours and had just carried on his business as usual. It wasn’t until that evening when his mother was helping him take off his shoes did she spy the cut and realize Craig had gotten injured. 

“How bad was it?”

“Just a small cut.” Craig removed his sock to show his bandaged toe to Clyde. “It’s not a big deal. Mommy made a bigger fuss over it than I did, asking me what we had been doing that day.”

“Hot Wheels are a lot more dangerous than I thought they were.” Clyde commented, unconnecting a track loop that had been perched on Clyde’s toy chest, connecting it to the track that had been running over the headboard of his bed and the desk. “This brings the battle wounds up to two if I added that up right!”

“You did.” Craig assured him. Clyde was still awful at math through and through. “But like I said, it’s not a big deal. I couldn’t even feel it and I’ve had worse before.”

“What’s one really bad cut you can think of?” Clyde asked.

“Besides skimming my knee falling off the trike and all the times Stripe has bitten me combined? Not many.” Craig shrugged and dumped an armload of cars into the bin that Clyde used to store them.

“Say…uh, Craig?” Clyde looked up from their cleanup tasks, his face suddenly more grave that Craig had seen it in quite a while. “What happened last Monday that made you run away from school like that?”

“Oh, it was-wait a second.” Craig stopped mid sentence to glare at Clyde. “How you do you I ran away? Like, barely anyone was at school when it happened!”

“Cartman was there.” Clyde said. His chubby hands curled into fists. “As soon as you ran past he apparently roared with laughter and spread rumors around the rest of the day that you had gone and died or something dumb like that. It was so stupid and mean of him to do that and Token and I were really worried when we found out, but we just had no idea where you would be. In all the confusion, we didn’t even realize Tweek was absent too, until Kyle asked about it.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh it was honestly nothing special, just a comment that was something like “Hey, where’s Tweek?” Cartman was happy to answer him and told him that he saw Tweek rush out of the building after you had vanished from sight. He looked more panicked than usual, apparently, and was clutching his coffee thermos like it was a baby or something. Cartman lost sight of him after that so he didn’t know much more than that. I was actually kinda surprised he talked so much about you guys-he usually keeps things like this hush hush unless he can cause some sort of trouble from it.”

And trouble he had. Craig was pretty sure he was going to have to debunk some rumors tomorrow about Tweek and himself. He wasn’t looking forward to it. 

“I went into the woods by Stark’s Pond.” Craig finally admitted, his fingers absentmindedly digging into the threads of the greyish blue carpet that covered the floor. “I hit my head on a tree and got knocked out and Tweek found me. I have no idea how long I was out, honestly.”

“Must have been a while if you didn’t come back to school and caught a cold afterwards.” Clyde commented. “Tweek must have been determined to find you if he also caught a cold right after you did.”

“He was probably looking for hours, out in the rain, alone.” Craig said, the mental image alone making him swim with gratitude for the little blonde, who had persevered for so long to find him and make sure he was okay, even when he didn’t know he had been indirectly involved with Craig’s rage and tears over the situation.

“He’s pretty darn dedicated to you.” Clyde pointed out. ‘The times you’re not at school for some reason, he looks really lost and nervous, like he’s missing something.”

“Oh trust me, he feels that way alright. He told me himself.”

The words were out of Craig’s mouth before he could stop himself and he began to turn a brilliant bright red as Clyde turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

“When did he tell you that?”

“I-It was in the woods last week.” Craig groaned, still red in the face. He had meant to keep this all secret, like a special memory that he would think about and smile to himself when he felt down (he had done that a lot during his time in bed) Little moments like that were things he treasured dearly, and he wasn’t always open enough to express sentiment to others, not wanting to seem too mushy or embarrassing to be around. He already thought he was embarrassing enough between sensory issues, social problems, and his meltdowns. 

“So the feelings are mutual?” Clyde asked, poking his shoulder when he decided that Craig had spent enough time staring off into space. 

“I guess…” Craig mumbled, pulling on the strings of his chullo hat to hide his spreading blotchy flush.

“I knew it!” Clyde shouted joyfully, clapping Craig so hard on the back the wind was knocked out of him. “You’re in love with him!” 

“W-what?” Craig stammered, his voice weak from lack of breath. “No! I just want him to be around me at all times and I wanna tell him he's cute and that we should hold hands more often…”

“Sounds like love to me.” Clyde snickered, his hands covering his mouth to muffle his threatening to burst out laughter. “You can't hide that from me, Craig. I've noticed your behavior around him since our preschool days! It was pretty obvious from the first day.”

Craig let out a high pitched squeak that he never thought he could possibly ever make and tugged the hat down as low as it could go over his face. He hadn't even realized he potentially liked Tweek as more than a friend until his fifth birthday, so how the hell had Clyde, who was still somewhat dimwitted in multiple areas, picked it up so fast? 

“You really should tell him!” Clyde added, grinning wider when he saw Craig’s flustered reaction. “I bet that he’s in love with you too!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? You talk to him so easily!”

“This isn’t a easy thing to talk about Clyde!”

It was like a parallel to the day that he had tried to properly befriend Tweek on the first day of preschool. Just thinking about telling him that made him freeze up. And were they a bit too young? Five was barely above four. Maybe he should wait until they were both six.

But that seemed like it would be forever until that happened. And who knew what would happen between the two of them during that time? They could maybe get into a fight and not speak ever again afterwards or one of them could move away or one of them could even...die, somehow. In some ways, he agreed it would be better to say something sooner, but he was just too scared. 

“Why is it hard?” Clyde asked. “I told Bebe I loved her last week.”

“And did she look at you like you were a two headed alien from another planet?” Craig rolled his eyes.

“Well yeah...but that’s beyond the point!” Clyde insisted. “I guess the difference is that, uh, Tweek would probably really like to hear that. I betcha anything he would.”

“So how should I tell him?” Craig asked, lifting up his hat so that he could catch Clyde’s eye.

“Oh that’s easy! I’ll tell you and by the time you need to go home for dinner, you’ll be all set!”

And so, for the rest of their playdate at Clyde’s house, they spent it cleaning up the remainder of the Hot Wheels mess and talked about what they knew about romance and “wooing” the people they liked. After much talking back and forth (and the occasional raised voice) their plans were complete and would be set in motion the very next day.

Or the day after, if Tweek was somehow still sick on Monday. They would take whatever they could get when it came to love (or so Clyde had suggested, to prevent discouragement) If Tweek was still sick on Tuesday, then Craig would ask to go over to Tweek’s house to ask him what was wrong and maybe confess there. When Mrs. Tucker came over that evening to pick Craig up, he was quiet the rest of the evening, too much on his mind for him to try and talk to Stripe or his bunny. His anxiety, combined with his stomach flip flopping with nerves, was from his worries of getting fixed with his new equipment for class and for confessing his love to Tweek, which he knew, was a pretty big deal even at his young age, and as he learned from Clyde, it was a much bigger leap from the long used “twitterpated” that their little group had used casually to describe those fluttery, butterfly like feelings since that January. He wasn’t sure how well it would go, but it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

Right. He wouldn’t know unless he made the leap. 

Luckily, when Craig and his mother arrived at school early on Monday morning, Tweek and his mother were already there by the front of the building. Like the previous week, they were there very early, before any of the other students who went to school with them. There were what looked like a few fourth graders playing on the swings, but they didn’t bother with Craig and Craig didn’t bother with them. It was a fair deal.

“Hi Craig! Oh, you brought the bunny!” Tweek dashed over and looked over Craig’s shoulder at the stuffed blue rabbit that was poking out of his backpack. 

“Oh, yeah, t-thanks for having your mom send it to me!” Craig cursed himself for stuttering. He really was anxious about confessing to Tweek if he was beginning to stutter and slip up words in his presence, something he hadn’t done since he was three. “You all better now?”

“Y-yeah.” Tweek assured him. His voice sounded slightly gunky, like Craig’s, but he seemed fine otherwise. “I’m glad you’re better! A-and I’m glad the bunny helped.”

“Does he have a name?” Craig asked, reaching around to take the bunny out so that he could hug him. 

“Kinda.” Tweek began to explain in a rush. “I-I got that bunny back when I was born, as a baby shower gift from my aunt and uncle. It was put in my crib but I didn’t really get as attached to it even when I got older. So it kinda just sat on my dresser until I decided that hey, maybe I should give it to you as a get well present. I nicknamed it Peter later, when I was two, like, after Peter Rabbit, for no reason other than it was blue like Peter’s jacket. B-but you can call the bunny w-whatever you’d like!”

“No, Peter sounds nice, I like it.” Craig was being truthful, Peter actually did seem to fit the rabbit rather nicely. But maybe he was just being agreeable only because it was Tweek who had originally named the rabbit. Either way, Tweek smiled when he said so and that made his heart soar to the stars once more.

“Boys, if you’re done catching up, are you ready to come in and see Mr. Mackey?” 

The two of them jumped and turned to their mother’s guiltily. Mrs. Tucker and Mrs. Tweak laughed as their sober and hesitant expressions towards the whole situation as they shuffled the boys into the building.  
“Have you been to like, a therapy place before?” Craig asked Tweek, their footsteps echoing around the empty hallway. He figured since they were getting help that reminded him of his therapy stuff, he wanted to know if Tweek had been through similar experiences. 

“A few times.” Tweek said, his little sneakers making tiny tapping noises as he walked. “I-I saw a lady who asked me about my anxiety and how happy I was day to day while I got to play in her cool indoor sandbox. She was really nice and Mama says I can go and talk to her once a week, if I want too.”

“There’s a therapist like that?” Craig scrunched up his face in surprise. “I’ve seen three different therapists and they were nothing like that. Just some very smiley people who make me do things that are so easy it’s boring or are so hard it hurts and makes me cry in frustration…”

“Woah.” Tweek’s eyes widened. “What did they help you out with?”

“Well, my first therapist was my speech therapist, when I was three…” Craig remembered back when he first started seeing her, he could barely talk. Of course, he knew everything and payed attention to conversations his parents had with other people clearly, it was just a different story making the words come out of his own mouth to contribute to anything going on around him. That had been one of the main causes of his frustration and meltdowns back when he was two and three: the fact that he couldn’t say what he wanted and that no one would understand him. Screaming was the only way back then he could do to get others to listen.

But speech therapy had changed all that. After Craig started going and learned how to correctly say the words he had stumbled and gotten stuck on for so long, he could finally express himself (although his voice always sounded nasally in a way that he would never understand) It had been the biggest relief in the world for him to finally say “yes” or “no” or “I love you” to his parents and have them know what he meant by saying those words. She had also give him some tips on recognizing and using tones of voices and how to read facial expressions, something that didn’t always come easily to him. 

“I guess she really helped since you talk so nicely. I would never have guessed and I’ve known you since you could barely say anything at all!” 

“Thanks.” A small amount of blush tinged Craig’s brown skinned cheeks from those high praising words. “I don’t even go to her anymore. All I see now are my o-occuparational therapists and my physical therapists, one day a week for each.” 

“It’s occupational, Craig.” Mrs. Tucker had heard and she grinned when he sighed with frustration after she had corrected him on the pronunciation of such a long word.

“And what do they do to help you?” Tweek asked, pretending that the embarrassing correcting hadn’t happened, thankfully.

“Physical helps me get stronger, like lifting thing wise I guess.” Craig shrugged. “And the occupational stuff helps me do things like ride a trike or go up the stairs and how to cut with a fork and a knife.” Of the two of them, occupational therapy had been his favorite and least favorite at the same time. He had hated it because doing the right thing with his terrible motor skills when he was younger had been stressful for him to get the hang of, but he did enjoy playing with the therapy toys on break. They always had a good selection of fun toys there. 

“You really had issues with that when you were littler?” Tweek asked.

“Yeah, and sometimes I still do.” Craig sighed. That was part of the reason he needed all this extra stuff in school-because his issues kept him from doing things the way “normal” kids did them. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Tweek whispered, his quiet voice filled with pity and hurt for Craig.

“Don’t be.” Craig told him sharply. “I can’t help my problems so there’s no reason to be sorry for me for. It’s just who I am, I guess.”

“I’m sorry…” Tweek whispered again, looking wounded. His hurt expression made Craig’s heart break and he hoped that if he even did get the chance to tell Tweek what he felt, he hoped that being sharp with him earlier that day wouldn’t affect anything.

“Hey,” Craig spoke up in what he hoped was a softer and kinder tone. “You didn’t know, it’s alright. Just don’t say it again, okay?”

“Alright.” Tweek nodded in agreement, his wounded expression healed by his newly formed sweet smile that again, got Craig’s heart going. He wanted to say more in response, but his mother tapped his shoulder just as he was opening his mouth. 

“Okay kids, enough with the chit chat, we’re here.” 

They were outside their kindergarten classroom. They could hear what was probably Mr. Mackey working with something inside. Whatever it was made loud thumping noises that were muffled by the carpeting on the classroom floor. 

“Are we going in together?” Tweek asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Mrs. Tucker shrugged. You both need help with the wiggle seats so we’ll ask Mr. Mackey to get those out of the way first, and then you can either watch Craig quietly or go and play with the toys.”

“Sounds fine to me.” Craig said, although he wasn’t sure if he wanted Tweek to see just how much equipment and therapy stuff that he would have to use for the duration of their time in Kindergarten, maybe even for the rest of elementary school, if his problems persisted long enough. 

But he hoped deep down, if Tweek insisted on watching, that he wouldn’t think of Craig as either an invalid or a weakling afterwards. He hoped that afterwards, he would find a good time to finally put the plan he had came up with into action and tell Tweek how he felt about him.

If all went well, that is.


	12. Space Oddity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, sorry for the shorter chapter. This chapter was coming out MUCH longer than I originally though it would be, so it got split up into two smaller ones to be on the safe side (the second one needs editing to fix the flow so it will be up later) Sorry once again for filler content, but the big stuff will be happening in 13 so sit tight!
> 
> I guess just one thing I have to mention is that I wasn't diagnosed back in kindergarten (I wouldn't get my Aspergers diagnosed until I was 16) so I hope all the help sounds...at least somewhat accurate? I did all the research I could to make it sound realistic. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy! ^^

The noises that they heard from outside the classroom were made clear as soon as they stepped inside. Mr. Mackey was on his knees next to two of the chairs, placing two pads made of plastic on them. One of them was dark blue and the other was green, which made Craig actually wonder if their mothers had told Mr. Mackey what their favorite colors were before he set them out for them. Mr. Garrison was nowhere in sight, probably not at school yet or in the teacher’s lounge getting coffee and complaining. 

“Hello there!” Mr. Mackey stood up and wiped his brow off with a white handkerchief before shaking Mrs. Tucker’s hand. “Just finished getting these up for them. I’m far from installing all of them though-I told Liane Cartman I’d install one for Eric since he insisted when he found them in the backroom last Thursday by “accident.”

“Well, does he need one?” Mrs. Tucker asked.

“Not from what I can tell.” Mr. Mackey sighed, “I don’t want to cause trouble by telling him no though.”

“Tell him no anyway, because we know what children who need these are like.” Mrs. Tweak chimed in unexpectedly, helping Tweek into his newly revamped chair, his backpack slipping to the floor as he squirmed into place. “He shouldn’t take advantage of something he doesn’t actually need and from what I’ve seen of that child, he’d probably abuse it to it’s fullest potential.”

“M’kay, I’ll give Liane a call after this.” Mr. Mackey said. “I didn’t want to cause a fuss, but your words have made me change my mind. Liane will probably be relieved anyway. She didn’t sound super enthused when we talked about it. I think her son put her up to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if a tantrum of a colossal scale was involved.” 

“Ugh.” Craig groaned under his breath, picking up Tweek’s backpack and hanging it up for him before hanging up his own, making sure that Peter was tucked inside out of sight. It seemed like something Cartman would do: try and get a hand of something he didn’t need or deserve to spite people like Tweek and himself.

“How’s the seat, Tweekers?” Mrs. Tweak asked, trying to bring the attention back to the two kids who actually needed it.

“I like it.” Tweek said, feeling over the green, squishy, plastic with his fingertips. “It feels nice.”

“Do you think it will help you concentrate better in class?” Mr. Mackey asked him. 

Tweek nodded and wiggled about, grinning a bit at all the adults and then at Craig. “Try it out Craig!” he insisted, still smiling slightly.

Craig reluctantly came over and sat down in his chair, feeling too high up, his knees scraping the top of the table, his body tipping and feeling unsteady on the squishy plastic of the seat. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest and he got off immediately, frowning at the offending wiggle seat. 

“Looks like that won’t work out.” Mrs. Tucker sighed, observing the little show that Craig had put on. “I didn’t think about Craig’s height. He’s too tall for a seat that brings him up even higher. Tweek’s small so it works better for him, but I should've asked you to check to see if Craig could even fit in his seat with one.”

“I’ll put this away in the staff room and if Craig ever changes his mind or ends up in a classroom where the seats and tables are bigger, he can come to me and ask for it, m’kay?”

“That will be fine,” Mrs. Tucker said as she watched Craig throw the seat off his chair was unrestrained malice. “And Craig, don’t do that please! That’s school property and you’re paying for it if you break it!”

“Sorry sorry!” Craig insisted, turning red and handing the chair to Mr. Mackey without looking him in the eye at all. He never wanted to see that terrible seat again, even if Tweek liked it. It worked for him, but it didn’t work out so well for himself and he would rather see the other stuff that Mr. Mackey had gotten to test on him. Hopefully, they would yield better results than the wiggle seat fiasco. 

Okay maybe it hadn’t been a fiasco, but he still didn’t want to go near one ever again.

“M’kay, shall we move on then?” Mr. Mackey coughed. “We have a lot of ground to cover for Craig specifically. Tweek can join if he wants to, since his ADHD has some similar symptoms, but he’s not required to do so if he doesn’t want to.”

“N-no, I wanna see.” Tweek chimed in. “I’m curious about what Craig might get to use.”

“M’kay, give me a second…” Mr. Mackey turned around and pulled out a large, clear, plastic bin. Craig could see from just a glance that it filled with all sorts of stress and stim toys that he had tried out at Therapy before. When Mr. Mackey dropped it on the table (quietly, to Craig’s relief) he turned around and fetched a bag of what was probably the previously mentioned Moon Sand and a set of headphones, accompanied with a walkman and another bag, this one filled with cassette tapes. 

“I prepared this box for Mr. Garrison to keep on hand for anyone who needs to keep their hands busy, not just for you two.” Mr. Mackey explained. “It’s full of various stim toys such as rubber toys, silly putty, clear wands full of glitter, stress balls, and more. Just give them all a try later or now and see what works if you want, m’kay?”

“Wow…” Tweek reached in and pulled out a wand that made mechanical buzzing noises and gave off colorful lights with just the flick of a button. “These are cool Craig!”

“Yeah…” Craig sighed, looking into the bin. He had used over half these stim toys before and had disliked most of them. He prefered to do things like chew and twist his hat strings, flap his arms and hands, or run his fingers through Stripe’s fur or Tweek’s hair, if Tweek would allow him to do that again. He didn’t really want to have to carry this stuff around or use it in front of others he didn’t know as well as his friends because it would just scream “This kid is Autistic, watch out!” Being high functioning, he knew he was luckier than the much more severely autistic kids he had seen at therapy, because with the help he was receiving now, he would be able to become semi-normal and pass in society as someone without mental disabilities. He wasn’t loud and proud of his problems in terms of spreading awareness and letting others know of his issues and preferred to keep them to himself when he could, only really talking about them with his mother, various helpers and therapists, and his friends. Tweek especially understood his problems, he always had. 

“Craig, would you like to try out the moon sand now?” Mrs. Tucker asked him, sensing his displeasure with the stim toy selection. 

“Yeah, sure.” Craig nodded, watching Tweek curiously try out the various toys with wide eyes. He seemed to have never seen any of this stuff before and it was fascinating him, especially the things that spun. He watched the spinning tops and pinwheels and the light up, buzzing wand with some sort of wonder sparkling in his huge green eyes. Craig smiled as he watched him, wondering if Tweek had found the wonders and pleasures of finding a good stim, just like he did. 

“M’kay, here you go.” Mr. Mackey dumped the sand out of the plastic ziplock bag right in front of Craig in a smooth, tidy pile. Craig started down at curiously. It was bright blue and when he poked it, it felt softer and more chalky and solid than the sand he played with in the sandbox at the playground. Maybe it was better and that was saying something, since back when Craig was one and a half, his favorite stim had been sitting in the sandbox at the playground for hours on end, tricking sand through his fingertips to see all the tiny stones and mica tucked into the golden colored sand that sparkled in the sunlight. This sand didn’t sparkle with little stones, but it was a nice texture and molded into different shapes easier than any sand he had ever felt before. 

“Woah, that’s weird!” Tweek said as he watched Craig form a little crescent moon with the sand almost perfectly, without it crumbling like it would have if it was made of normal sand. 

“So, you like it dear?” Mrs. Tucker asked him, smiling as she watched him play with it.

Craig nodded happily. The wiggle seat had been a major disappointment and the toys hadn’t excited him all that much, but this moon sand was something he could definitely get behind. “Can I take some home with me?” Craig turned to his mother to ask.

“I don’t see why not, there’s plenty.” Mr. Mackey shrugged. “I’ll put some in a separate bag that you can bring home once school is out, m’kay?”

Craig just grinned wider and pushed some towards Tweek so that he could try it out too.

“How bad a mess does it make?” Mrs. Tucker asked. Craig knew she was only being cautious since he and Clyde had once left out play-doh on the kitchen tablecloth for several hours during the summer and it had dried and stuck to the plastic red checkered cloth. Mr. Tucker had been forced to throw it out, tablecloth and all, and they hadn’t gotten around to buying a new set of play doh or a new tablecloth yet. 

“Nothing too bad.” Mr. Mackey said. “It crumbles a bit, but it doesn’t dry out or stick to things. It’s easy cleanup, don’t worry, m’kay?”

“Phew.” Mrs. Tucker said, leaning over to check her watch, gasping when she saw the time. “Oh dear, We may need to cut things a bit short. Class will be starting in fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, we can save the pencil grips and the slant boards for another day then, since Tweek won’t be needing them.” Mr. Mackey informed her. “I can go over the walkman as the last thing, if you wish.”

“Oh, that would be great.” Mrs. Tucker said. “We have a big stereo at home and Craig does enjoy listening to music on it sometimes, but it’s old and the songs often fade out randomly or stop playing altogether. Plus, it can be loud and it wakes up Ruby from her naps.”

“So that’s why I can’t use it anymore?” Craig asked. He used to have a Red Racer greatest hits tape and he had danced to it and acted out scenes from the show while it played in the background. He also had a tape of Disney classic hits, but he didn’t insist on putting it on as much.

Mrs. Tucker nodded and motioned for him to pay attention to what Mr. Mackey was saying.

“Headphones will solve all the problems here.” Mr. Mackey pulled some headphones with big black ends on them, sort of like earmuffs. He plugged the cord into the clunky grey and blue walkman and pushed a button to open the part that held the cassettes, sliding it toward Craig’s end of the table. 

“C-can I help pick a tape?” Tweek asked, leaning over to peer into the bag of tapes at the center of the table. “I-I know I can’t read yet though, so could someone read them off for us?” 

“Why sure,” Mrs. Tweak said, startling Craig. She had been so quiet during the entire meeting, he had nearly forgotten she was there. She dumped the bag out on the table, tapes clattering all over the surface and sorted them out, reading off the labels written on them.

“This is quite the eclectic collection,” She mused, picking up a few. “Here’s some Beatles, and Nature Sounds, and a collection of Children’s music, Tori Amos, and then Nirvana, Radiohead, David Bowie and...the newest Green Day tape?”

“Some of these are my guilty pleasures, mkay?” Mr. Mackey insisted, looking somewhat embarrassed at his personal collection being laid out like this. 

“I’ve heard the Beatles and Radiohead.” Craig spoke up. “Daddy plays them in the car a lot when we take longer road trips as a family. And Mommy likes to play Tori Amos when she’s folding laundry. But, can we try out the David Bowie one? He sounds interesting.” 

“H-He’s cool.” Tweek said. “Daddy likes to listen to him a lot on our old record player in the living room.” 

“David Bowie it is,” Mr. Mackey said, snapping the tape into the place. “You press this button to start it, this one to stop the tape, this one to skip tracks back and forth, this controls the volume, and pressing down on the top will make the walkman pop open so you can change tapes. I will warn you though…” Mr. Mackey leaned close to talk to Craig more intimately. “This music is to help drown out sounds that make it hard for you to concentrate. You must never play anything while Mr. Garrison needs your full attention, m’kay? It’s not an excuse for you to miss out on anything important in class, m’kay?”

“M’kay.” Craig said, his spot on impression making Mrs. Tucker and Mrs. Tweak laugh into their hands and Tweek grin at him as he put on the headphones and pressed the play button. 

The volume wasn’t that high up, so Craig could still hear his mother and Mrs. Tweak talking about something to Mr. Mackey, but their voices sounded far away, almost muffled, by the combination of the headphones and the song playing out of them.

“I-I think the first song is called Space Oddity.” Tweek said, squinting to try and see the tape through the clear plastic that held it in place. 

“But he’s singing about some guy named Major Tom.” Craig said, confused. 

“According to Daddy, the song is called Space Oddity.” Tweek pointed out. “Because he’s like, uh, flying in space, so he’s this really odd thing in space, I guess! Major Tom in some fictional astronaut he made up. And Daddy also said the song came out five days before Apollo 11 launched their flight to the moon!”

“Woah, really?” Craig asked, his eyes wide. He had several books on Apollo 11 and the astronauts that had first walked on the moon and they were among his favorites. Sometimes during their pretend outer space games, Craig would yell “One small step for Craig, a giant leap for Tucker-kind!” and would get a pillow thrown at him for his stupid rip off of a statement by either Clyde or Token. 

“Mmhmm. So I guess Major Tom was the first confirmed astronaut on the moon, even before the Apollo 11 crew, despite not being a real person!” 

“That’s awesome!” Craig gasped, forgetting that he was even listening to the song still, he was so excited about the talk about astronauts and outer space and walks on the moon. 

“You kids sure know a lot about this,” Mrs. Tucker commented, but she was smiling, glad that they were able to get so interested and learn so much when they got curious and excited like this. 

“It’s excellent that they’re smart in this but, however…” Mr. Mackey looked over at the clock on the wall. “Mr. Garrison should be here in five minutes and I need to return to my office. Are you all set for now, Craig?”

“Yeah.” Craig assured him, turning off the walkman and removing the headphones, placing them to his left on the table. “I’m good.”

“Good. Now excuse me, I have to make a call to Mrs. Cartman before she tries to call me when her son gets here…” Mr. Mackey shook hands with both of their mother’s and dashed out of the room, his skinny legs looking odd as he ran at an alarmingly fast pace. 

“This is our cue dears.” Mrs. Tucker leaned over to kiss Craig’s forehead while Mrs. Tweak leaned behind Tweek and ruffled his hair, making him giggle. “Be good and use your new stuff the best you can, alright?”

Craig nodded, taking off the headphones to prove that he was paying attention as their mothers left them with one last wave goodbye over their shoulders.

Craig and Tweek were so busy between celebrating with Token and Clyde that they were all finally together again and trying out their new stuff, the morning passed by very quickly and Craig came to the conclusion that he would have to wait until after school to tell Tweek, when they would have a moment to breathe. It pained him a bit, but he didn't want to confess in front of anyone else, even Clyde, who had helped him plan it out. 

In the meantime, since Craig didn’t have the seat to help him out, he tried his best to stay still and forced himself back upright whenever he found himself instinctively slipping down in his chair. It wasn’t easy, but it was better than being in that dreaded seat. Tweek did well with his new cushioning and while he still twitched and wiggled in his chair, it didn’t rock it anymore and it didn’t cause the legs to lift up and thump against the ground like they had used too. He did, however, discover that shifting a certain way could make the cushion give off fart noises, something that they were all getting a major kick out of, even when Mr. Garrison sighed and grumbled about the immaturity of young children before turning back to his work. 

The two of them showed Clyde and Token the stim toys Mr. Mackey had planted in the classroom during their free time, as well as the moon sand and the walkman. They were fascinated by the moon sand particularly. Craig was thankful they were such a good distraction because he had pulled out Peter the stuffed rabbit from his bag and was clinging to him, stimming with the texture of his fur instead of the toys, so that the others could have a good chance of trying them out without interrupting him when he got especially focused into it. 

“Woah, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever felt.” Clyde mused as the moon sand sifted through his chubby fingers. “You guys are sooo lucky to be able to use this stuff in class.” 

“Hey, you can use it during free time too.” Craig pointed out, tucking Peter lower down so that only his long ears were visible over the top of the table. “Mr. Mackey said all the stim toys were free for anyone to use if they wanted too.” 

“But what if the others take all the toys before you can and you guys didn’t get to have any?” Token asked, the rational thinker of their group. “And what if they get all germy and you guys get sick?”

“I don’t really care what happens to them, they’re just toys.” Craig shrugged. “I have my hat and the strings on it are the best thing that keeps my hands busy.” And he had his bunny, but that was a secret between Tweek and himself for now. He wasn’t sure how the other two would react to Craig Thomas Tucker clinging to a stuffed animal like that. 

“If you say so,” Token shrugged, reaching into the bucket anyway to pull out one of the plastic clear wands filled with glitter, passing a rubber frog to Tweek as he did so. 

The other kids caught on to the new bin of toys quickly and some of them came over to check them out. Bebe and Wendy peered at them politely, trying out one of the twisty toys as a bracelet on Bebe’s wrist before putting it back and leaving for the book corner. Craig suspected Clyde’s goo goo eyes towards Bebe had scared them off from investigating further. 

Kyle and Butters came over as well, their eyes wide and they dug into the big and found new discovery after new discovery.

“Gee wiz, that’s a lotta toys!” Butters commented politely, one hand still on the security blanket he liked to tote around with him. 

“It is.” Kyle agreed with Butters, pulling out a slinky and watching it uncurl and then curl back up again by shaking it up and down. 

“Careful with it.” Craig advised him. “I’ve broken too many slinkies at home to count.”

“It will be fine, I’ve used them before.” Kyle rolled his emerald eyes and kept at it with the shaking and bouncing. Craig watched the silver slinky shine from the sunlight that was reflecting on it and then peered back at Kyle, whom he hadn’t really seen do anything without Stan by his side. Those two were inseparable and in a way, he supposed that’s how Kyle and Stan viewed Tweek and himself when they played and talked together. He wondered if Tweek thought that too.

“Where’s your other friends?” Clyde asked Kyle and Butters as they continued to linger by the stim toy bin.

“Oh, they’re floating paper boats in the sink.” Kyle motioned towards the back of the classroom, where Stan, Kenny, and Cartman were all floating little paper boats in the sink that they used to wash up after messy craft sessions. Some of the water was sloshing onto the floor as their game got rougher. 

“There wasn’t enough room for five so we decided not to join in.” Butters explained.

“They’re gonna be in so much trouble.” Token said, frowning as Cartman tried to hog all the boats from Kenny and Stan by pulling them towards him, leaving them with only one boat that was already half sunken and soggy. In retaliation, Kenny reached over to try and snatch one from out of Cartman’s greedy hands, which resulted in him getting smacked by Cartman in the face and falling backwards, hitting his head against the sink before crashed to the floor. Everyone else in the classroom (except for Mr. Garrison, who was checking their letter writing assignments from earlier) looked up from what they were doing, some of them running over to the scene to check things out for themselves, not quite sure how they could help. 

“Will Kenny be okay?” Tweek asked, gripping Craig’s T-shirt from behind while watching the event unfold. 

“He’ll be fine, see?” Kyle pointed towards the sink. Kenny was already getting up, shrugging off the accident like it was no big deal, no tears or anything, which was how Clyde and sometimes Tweek usually reacted to accidents (Clyde more so than Tweek). Craig could see a huge purple bruise forming by the corner of his right eye, but Kenny didn’t even seem to notice that he was hurt, just tugged his parka hood around him more securely and began to drain the overflowing sink before Mr. Garrison could notice, much to the protests of Cartman and Stan. 

“You sure you’re okay Ken?” Butters called over to him.

Kenny turned around and gave Butters and Kyle a thumbs up before turning back to what he was doing. 

“Dang, Kenny’s resilient.” Clyde blurted out.

“I don’t know how he does it.” Kyle admitted. “Whenever Stan gets a cut, he's full on wailing and I’m no better myself, but Kenny just shrugs things off and gets right back to what he was doing. I’ll never understand it.” 

“Craig does the same thing.” Tweek said before clapping his hands over his mouth, realizing he had blurted out information Craig probably didn’t want anyone else to know about outside of their friend group.

“Uh, kinda…” Craig said, not really minding that Tweek had brought that particular fact up. It was bound to slip out one day. “I don’t really really physical pain all that much. So if I hit my head or get a cut, I barely feel it. Sometimes I don’t even know if I’m hurt until like, bedtime or something.”

“Wow.” Butters gasped, his aquamarine eyes wide with amazement. “That’s kinda nifty!” 

“He once got a huge scrape falling off Clyde’s trike and didn’t even feel it.” Tweek added. “I was sore all over and he acted like his scrape was no big deal!”

“Kenny’s kinda like that, with the pain, but I don’t always know how he gets hurt.” Kyle shrugged. “Sometimes he walks into class with a bloody nose or a huge bruise over one eye and he doesn’t even seem to remember where he’s gotten them when we ask.”

“Maybe he’s lying when he says he can’t remember?” Token suggested.

“Maybe, Kenny’s always been fairly secretive since day one.” Kyle looked over towards the sink, where Mr. Garrison had finally noticed the small flood and Kenny’s accident, forcing Cartman into the time out corner, since it was originally his idea, and making Stan and Kenny clean up the spilled sink water with paper towels from the dispenser. 

“Kyle, Butters, give us a hand over here!” Stan called, waving his soggy paper towels in the air like a battle flag. 

“But we didn’t make the mess!” Butters protested.

“We still can’t do all this by ourselves!” Stan insisted, his towels getting so soggy now that pieces were breaking off. 

“Ah, sorry for bothering you guys.” Kyle said, putting the slinky back and turning to go help his friends out. Butters had already ran ahead after Stan’s previous statement and was grabbing more paper towels from the dispenser to help them out. 

“It’s fine, you weren’t.” Tweek said, Craig nodding in agreement. Of the five boys in Kyle’s friend group, Kyle and Butters were probably the nicest from what they knew of them over the years. Butters was a bit of an idiot and Kyle sometimes acted like he was better than everyone else, but they seemed to mean well. Otherwise, Craig found Stan rather dull, Cartman too much of an asshole to befriend, and Kenny was so mysterious that Craig wasn’t even sure he was a real person, more like a figment of his imagination. But that wouldn’t make sense if he was, since nearly everyone knew Kenny by name and sight at this point. He was impossible to miss with that dirty straw colored hair, sapphire blue eyes, and stained orange parka.

But as Craig stared at four boys cleaning up, he was nudged in the shoulder by Clyde.

“Uh, Craig, you’d better watch out for yourself later.” Clyde whispered, turning him in the direction of the time out corner.

Cartman had turned around from the blank wall he was supposed to be staring at and fixed his piggy eyes straight on Craig’s own eyes. They were the oddest eyes Craig had ever seen, one a sky blue and the other a dull brown color, and the eye contact for no particular reason at all made Craig’s knees shake, afraid to break it for fearing what Cartman would do if he dared to turn himself away. Cartman’s eye narrowed and he attempted to escape his chair without Mr. Garrison noticing, stepping closer to Craig, but as he passed the sink, Kyle grabbed the back of his shirt and held him in place, the eye contact breaking to Craig’s immense relief as he turned to glare at Kyle instead.

“Just freaking help us Cartman if you’re not going to stay in the corner.” Kyle rolled his eyes, handing him the soggy paper boats to throw away. Cartman gave Craig one last lingering glare before turning around to fulfill what Kyle wanted him to do. 

“Gee, what a dick.” Clyde murmured as they all turned around to clean up the stim toys. It would be lunchtime soon and Mr. Garrison wouldn’t let anyone eat until the classroom was spotless. 

“Just ignore him.” Token suggested absentmindedly as he brushed moon sand back into it’s plastic ziplock bag. 

“I wouldn’t,” Tweek piped up. “H-he was being mean to you. Most kids in the class k-know you hate being looked in the eye by now. He was doing it on purpose to make you uncomfortable.”

“He wasn’t.” Craig said, but that was a lie. Cartman’s angry doughy little eyes felt like they had pierced him, as though he knew something about Craig that wasn’t all that pleasant and wanted to expose it for the world to see. Cartman clearly had a bone to pick with Craig and the nasty looks he shot across the room throughout the rest of cleanup confirmed this: that Cartman was pissed off and looking for trouble.

And unfortunately, staying away from trouble was not something Craig was good at.


	13. The R Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this probably takes the cake for the HARDEST chapter to figure out in terms of build up and how the characters react to the situation. I hope it translates well and that it's an enjoyable read!
> 
> AS A NOTICE: Retarded is easily one of the cruelest insults out there towards people with mental disabilities and challenges, so under any circumstance, NEVER USE IT. Don't stoop to Cartman's level guys, it ain't cool.   
> (I'm also very sorry if I wrote Cartman a bit ooc, this was my very first time writing him)
> 
> Writing dialogue is my favorite thing ever just sayin'
> 
> Beside that, enjoy! ^^

The remainder of the morning and the early afternoon, Craig was certain that Cartman was still trying to catch his eye. He still didn’t know why and that alone just bothered him so much he wasn’t able to concentrate on his lunch, his schoolwork, even their free time when they played with a wooden train set that Clyde had located in a forlorn bin in the corner.

“He’s really starting to unnerve me now.” Tweek commented, watching as Craig turned his head to see if Cartman was still watching him-which he was, doing so as he played Candyland with Butters and Kenny. Butters kept nudging him to make sure he remembered to draw cards and move when it was his turn. 

“Doesn’t everything unnerve you?” Clyde asked.

“No! Not everything!” Tweek protested. “I-I do get unnerved a lot but for some reason, Cartman doing...ngnn, this, is making me really anxious. I have a bad feeling about what he’s planning.”

“Of course you should, this is Cartman we’re talking about.” Token agreed. “Remember that time in preschool when he came in early and poured superglue all over Clyde’s seat?”

“Oh fuck you.” Clyde snapped, not caring about his language. “It took twenty minutes before I could get back up off the stupid seat again.”

“Yeah, but it was kinda funny,” Craig grinned, remembering Clyde’s crying and struggling as he tried to get his ass up off the glue coated seat. 

“Of course you would think so.” Token rolled his eyes eyes as he connected two pieces of the train tracks with a small click. 

“But why is he trying to freak you out like this?” Tweek asked. “Y-you two have never even really talked to one another! He barely knows you at all so the fact that he’s sitting there, judging you-augh!”

“Maybe he’s mad at me because he didn’t get a wiggle seat like he wanted?” Craig suggested.

“Oh, he tried to get one?” Clyde asked.

“Yeah, but Mr. Mackey didn’t feel he needed one so he didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why he wanted one so badly, but then Tweek discovered it made farting noises earlier so that probably explains why.”

“He probably wanted it to annoy everyone with it.” Tweek added, grinning. “I think Mr. Garrison would have taken it away from him if he did that all the time, even if Mr. Mackey approved of him using it.”

“But you do the same thing with your own wiggle seat.” Clyde pointed out.

“N-not on purpose!” Tweek stammered. “It just...happens.” He flushed and looked away so that the others couldn’t see his red face. Tweek was the shyest one about fart and poop jokes, while Token and Clyde cracked them daily at this point. Craig couldn’t care less. He admittedly didn’t understand half of them anyway. 

“Either way,” Token spoke up. “I don’t trust Cartman at all and I do agree that he’s mad at Craig for some reason and probably wants to get back at him for it.”

“I hope he drops it and stops looking at me like that.” Craig grumbled as he banged two of the wooden trains together, chipping their paint a little.

“Dude, this is Cartman we’re talking about.” Clyde said as he moved one of the trains along the track they had constructed. “He’ll never drop it. Never”

And all Craig could do was sigh because Clyde was right. He would never stop his plans and schemes until he got what he wanted out of his victims.

Craig didn’t have to wait much longer to find out just what Cartman was so riled up about. It all came out by the end of the day while they were waiting for their mothers to pick them up, during an event that would haunt his memories for quite a long while afterwards.

Right before it happened, Craig and his friends were playing on the jungle gym, seeing who could do the freakiest stunt while they were out of sight of the playground overseers. Craig’s initial idea had been to pull Tweek aside and try and tell him what he had been hiding from him all day, but Token and Clyde had insisted, saying they hadn’t played together as a group of four on the playground in days. When it was Craig’s turn, he was determined to outdo Token, who had done some sort of acrobatic flip that would probably have gotten him famous if news reporters had been hanging around town looking for childhood prodigies. He grabbed the cold metal bars and let himself hang there for a minute, his feet dangling in the air above the grass and worn out places where kids had trodden with little rough feet over the years. He tipped backwards a bit, because he was wearing his backpack, Peter still safely tucked inside. 

“C’mon Craig! You can do it!” Clyde cheered him on.

“Careful!” Tweek warned him, his face contorted into it’s usual look of anxiety.

“I’ll be fine.” Craig assured Tweek, looking down to smirk at Token, who was waiting a safe distance away to see if the others measured up to what he was able to do. He took a deep breath and grabbed the bar ahead of him, trying to mimic Token’s flip, but his hand slipped off the sweat slick bar and he crashed down into the dirt, unhurt despite having fallen face first, with the only casualty being a blow to his ego.  
“Good try.” Token was laughing and approaching him to help him up, but just as he reached out his hand to give it to Craig, he stopped, his brown skinned hand frozen in the air, his mouth dropped open, his dark eyes wide with alarm.

“What’s the matter-oh.”

Still on the ground, Craig turned his head to find himself looking up at the shit eating grin that belonged to Eric Cartman. 

“Aye, Craig.” Cartman smirked, arms folded across his pudgy chest.

“What do you want with me?” Craig asked, standing up and brushing the dirt off his pants. He tried to not show it, but after the looks Cartman had giving him earlier, he was pretty certain that it wouldn’t be good news and this anticipation was making him feel nervous.

“Oh nothing…” Cartman fidgeted a bit, his smirk still in place. “I just wanted to know how you manage to survive the day with a broken brain like your’s.”

“What?” Craig asked, although he had a fairly good guess on what Cartman was trying to bring up and wouldn't be surprised if something as petty as not getting that seat was behind it. 

“Well, if someone like you runs around with the need to ignore others looks for your own selfish benefit, avoid touching from those who actually give a shit about you, and get so worked up over nothing you thrown a stupid tantrum like a two year old, you deserve to be labeled as mentally retarded and then locked up in a mental hospital!”

Craig heard muffled laughter and saw Butters standing behind Cartman, holding his hand over his mouth to control his laughter. On Cartman’s right, he saw Kyle trying to lunge for Cartman’s fat neck, looking ready to jump in and maybe try and help Craig out, but Stan was holding him back with one outstretched arm, looking down at his sneakers, seemingly uncaring about the situation at hand or that Cartman was trying to harass Craig. Craig’s blood began to boil with fury towards Butters and Stan as well as Cartman. He thought Butters and Stan knew better than stooping to this. At least Kyle didn’t seem to agree but then again, he was always angry at Cartman for one reason or another and trying to get Cartman to stop his evil schemes wasn’t out of the norm.

“Excuse me?” Craig asked angrily, offended by the mention of being locked up. He had overheard his father say it once, back when he was two and wasn’t diagnosed. He still remembered his mother’s furious tone of voice, even if he hadn’t been able to comprehend or vocalize his displease about what they were saying at the time. 

“Oh?” Cartman's smirk got even wider, he was beginning to look like the Cheshire cat. “Are you so retarded up there in your little brain that I’ll have to repeat myself so you can understand my very simply stated statement?”

“Hey, knock it off!” Clyde yelled from his perch on the jungle gym, probably only staying up high to avoid getting too involved. 

“I agree with Clyde.” Token’s hands were balled into fists, but he was shaking and losing his composure, something that Craig rarely saw happen to him. It was Tweek’s reaction that shocked him the most, however. Tweek was still high up on the jungle gym with Clyde, but his eyes were narrowed into slits and he was shaking with what seemed to be rage, not anxiety, his grip on the bars so tight that his knuckles were turning white. 

“What does mentally retarded mean anyway?” Craig asked, his eyes narrowing, trying not to show his surfacing anxiety.

“Retarded is a word for people who are brain damaged, slow, lazy, and dumb.” Cartman answered, casually shrugging. “In short, retarded is just the right word to call people like you, Craig Tucker.” 

Craig’s mouth dropped open and there were audible gasps from the crowd that had formed all around them. Clyde’s hands were gripping the metal bars so tight Craig wouldn’t be surprised if they burst into flames from the pressure. Token was glaring daggers at Cartman, and even Butters and Stan looked horrified. Craig briefly wondered if Cartman had just forced them along with him without them fully understanding the terms he wanted to use. Up above, Tweek was still staring down at the scene, his apparent anger outmatching Clyde’s and Token’s by a longshot from what Craig could tell from the briefest glance up at him. 

“Now that’s just uncalled for, fatass.” Kyle spoke up first, green eyes flashing. He still looked like he wanted to lunge and tackle Cartman to the ground, but Stan’s grip on him was still holding him back.

“Your opinion in this doesn’t matter, Kahl, because one of the few good things about you is that you aren’t as retarded as Craig here,” Cartman snapped. “Now then…” He walked closer to Craig, crossing the invisible barrier that Craig had set up around himself, against those who came too close to him. Craig tried to back away, but he stumbled and fell backwards, hitting the dirt again, this time on his back and not his stomach. This knocked the wind out of him despite the cushioning of his backpack and he couldn’t speak as Cartman loomed over him, like some evil monster who had finally cornered his prey, looking Craig dead in the eye.

“W-what are you doing?” Craig wheezed, trying to look at something else that wasn’t Cartman’s piggy, mean little eyes. Cartman saw his head wiggling about and clasped it between his two hand, both pudgy and clammy and sweat soaked. The unwanted touching and the horrifically awful eye contact made bile rise up his throat and his limbs shook and trembled like a leaf, making them unresponsive when he tried to smack and kick Cartman away. The same horrifically overwhelming sensation that came just before a meltdown was rising up fast and that’s when Craig realized Cartman’s plans without him having to explain them to him.

He was keeping him in place so that he would be forced to scream and cry and thrash his limbs for all those on the playground to see, to show the world that he was just as mentally retarded as Cartman said he was. His classmates had seen him going through meltdowns before (The most notable one being the time he bit Miss Claridge) but there were older students hanging around who knew nothing about Craig's issues at all, who would definitely call him retarded on sight if they saw him having a meltdown. Even if he allowed his flailing and thrashing limbs to be part of his self defense, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to control himself even after he threw Cartman off. Craig had expected a physical fight to go down, but this was so unexpected and well thought out that Craig was stunned, almost a bit impressed in all honesty.

But it certainly didn’t excuse that Cartman was being absolutely cruel and nasty to him with how he was going about getting his revenge on Craig over some dumb wiggle seat.

“Go ahead Craig, go ahead and thrash and scream.” Cartman purred, squeezing his cheeks painfully, pulling back his eyelids so that he couldn’t pinch them tight against him. “Go ahead and show the world the behavior they hate to see. The behavior they think needs to be tucked away and hidden from the eyes of innocent children like myself that’s brought about by little retarded monsters like you.”

Craig couldn’t see if anyone else was reacting to Cartman’s horrid words, but he certainly could hear their furious murmuring and some loud protests.

“Cartman get the fuck off him!” 

“Oh god, you okay down there Craig?”

“Eric this is going to far! S-stop!” 

The last one was most definitely said by Butters, Craig could tell, since he was the only one who called Cartman by his first name. But Craig doubted he had power over Cartman’s heavy body mass and twisted schemes. Few people did and he himself wasn’t one of them.

Cartman oddly enough didn’t have any sort of snappy retort in response to the furious crowd. He just keep staring down at Craig, his eyes occasionally blinking but still caught in a horrid glare, the smirk on his face getting wider with each passing second.

Craig did want to scream now, he did want to thrash, he did want to do something that would get Cartman OFF him, but he was determined not to give in so he lay there, his mouth forming a determined little frown, praying deep down that at some point, Cartman would get bored of him and move on to bully someone else or someone would stand up to him and get him off Craig so that he could be set free, someone, anyway, he didn’t care anymore….

Finally, when he was about to give in and opened his mouth to scream, a horrific shriek that wasn’t his rang through the air and Cartman lost his eye contact and his grip on Craig, enough so that Craig could wiggle out from underneath him and sit there, panting and gasping and shivering, looking up when he felt he was ready to witness one of the most unexpected sights he had ever seen in his life.

Tweek had jumped down from his safe perch on the jungle gym and, despite being the smallest member of their class, had managed to drag Cartman by the back of his shirt, away from Craig, and had flattened him to the ground. Cartman tried to get up again and crush Tweek with his heavier weight, but Tweek was too fast for him and pushed him back down, kicking his ribs and scolding him with more malice and anger in his voice that Craig had ever heard from him in over a year of their friendship.

“You thought that would be funny?” Tweek snapped, his little feet making loud thumps as they connected with Cartman’s chest and rib cage in a way that made him scream like a baby pig. “Y-you thought it would be funny to pick on another kid who’s not up to your idea of a perfect person in our stupid world?”

“I-It was a joke!” Cartman tried to insist feebly. “I-I was gonna let him go!”

“Liar,” Tweek snapped, his eyes cold. “You wanted to make him feel humiliated, like he was worth nothing. Well you’re wrong! You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re WRONG!”

With every “wrong” Tweek’s frantic kicking got harder and then, when he was tired of doing that, he loomed over Cartman, and there was no arrogance or awful smirks on Cartman’s doughy face anymore. He looked genuinely terrified at the tiny angry being with wild blonde hair that was little Tweek Tweak. 

“If you ever bother him again…” Tweek leaned in so close to Cartman, Craig could see their noses brushing, “You’ll, once more, have to deal with THIS!”

Tweek reeled back and punched Cartman straight in the nose.

This wasn’t the first time Cartman had been punched in the nose at school by one of his classmates, but everyone wasn’t expecting Tweek to be the next person to do it. Blood spurted from both nostrils as Cartman whimpered and howled with pain and humiliation. Tweek got up and dusted off his hands, still looking livid, breathing hard. He was shaking, but it wasn’t his usual form of twitching. He seemed exhausted, like he had run a marathon and he was stopping to catch his breath at the finish line. Around him, it was dead silent, except for the occasional whimper from Cartman as he clutched at his chest and nose in pain from Tweek’s blows. 

For a moment, Craig thought that Tweek would make some sort of speech, like telling the others they’d get the same treatment next time they tried to bother Craig, but instead, he walked over to Craig and held out his hand to help him up. Craig accepted it, even though his tiny hands were still covered in dirt and Cartman’s blood. 

“You okay?” Tweek whispered as Craig stood up, still trembling himself. 

“I-I guess…” Craig asked, looking down at his sneakers, not sure if he could look anyone in the eye for the rest of the day at least without panicking. Even if it was Tweek. A bit aways, Token and Clyde watched, seeming to understand that Craig needed a bit of space after what had happened.

“Okay kiddos, knock it off.” 

Two of the recess overseers had finally come over to see what all the fuss was. One of them was helping a sniffling Cartman to his feet, handing him tissues for his bleeding nose. The other was looming over Craig and Tweek, not looking pleased with what had just gone down behind her back.

“Tell me, just what happened here?” she asked them, her lips pursed into a straight line.

“Cartman.” Craig’s voice came out much quieter than he had expected it too.

“I see that Cartman is all beat up over there, but could you tell me what happened to provoke that?” She sighed, looking like she just wanted to get this conversation over with.

“He, uh…” Craig stammered.

“Look me in the eye when you’re talking to me.” The overseer snapped. 

Craig shook his head and looked down instead. He couldn’t handle that and he wasn’t sure when he could anytime soon. 

“Cartman was bullying him!” Tweek burst out, coming to Craig’s rescue for the second time in the span of ten minutes. “H-he wouldn’t get off him s-so I took action, and maybe went a bit too far, but he deserved it!”

“What did he do?” The overseer was asking Tweek now, forgetting about Craig momentarily. 

“Pinned him down and called him all sorts of insults.” Tweek said. “A-ask the other kids-they heard him!”

“Okay then,” the overseer sighed. “You two get along to the nurse’s office while I do some more investigating-you’re both covered in dirt and is that blood on your hands?”

“Oh, oh my god!” Tweek shrieked when he finally noticed it, his shriek making him sound more like his old self again. “I look like I killed a man!”

“You almost did, to be honest.” Craig pointed out. “Now let’s go clean up the evidence of your murder attempt, shall we?”

Tweek giggled and began to reach for Craig’s hand, stopping in midair without warning.

“What’s wrong?” Craig asked, trying to keep his voice down even though the other kids had lost interest and were either resuming their games or getting interviewed by the overseers. 

“I uh…” Tweek looked down, giving Craig a clear view of his pretty lashes. “D-do you even want physical contact after that? I-I don’t want to bother you or anything if you’re still upset…”

“I’m fine if it’s you,” Craig whispered, turning a bit red as he grabbed one of Tweek’s filthy hands in one of his own. Still flushing, he and Tweek left the playground and walked inside the school building, towards the nurse’s office.

In the nurse’s office, the two of them were patched up by Nurse Gollum, who was gentle and sympathetic about their mishap enough for them to be able to ignore the creepy fetus stuck to her head. She knew all about their disabilities and quirks well enough to understand what they weren’t comfortable with and told Craig right off the bat that he didn’t need to give her eye contact for anything, which he was extremely grateful for. 

Tweek told her all about how had gotten the blood on his hands and his minor injuries (his hands were slightly scratched up) He told her that Cartman had been mean to Craig, but didn’t go into further details, which Craig was and wasn’t bothered by. He was glad that the subject of “retarded” wasn’t being brought up again, but he did want Cartman to get blamed for what he did and a vague explanation wouldn’t do much about it. 

“He deserved that,” she said as she washed Tweek’s hands and wrapped them in bandages. “He’s always been such a little brat, I don’t even know why he’s even allowed to come here at times.”

“Where did he go?” Craig asked, taking off his t-shirt to shake the dust off it.

“He’s already home with his mother.” Nurse Gollum told them. “He has two bruised ribs and a bloody nose, but nothing super serious. He’ll be fully recovered in about two or three weeks.”

“I wish I had broken his nose AND his ribs.” Tweek huffed, sitting down on the office cot. “He deserved to be broken everywhere for what he did.”

“Agreed.” Craig said, putting his shirt back on and laying down on the second cot that Miss Gollum had pulled out for them. 

“Whatever he did that you won’t talk about, it sounds bad.” Nurse Gollum wrinkled her nose. She turned around and wet some washcloths. “Here, clean your faces with these. I need to step out for a bit to notify your mother’s on where you are and what happened. Stay put on these cots, alright?”

The two of them nodded as Miss Gollum left the office to make the necessary phone calls. When she was out of sight, Tweek flopped down on the cot and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Craig turned his head to ask him. 

“Sorry, i-it’s just…” Tweek rolled over, facing Craig now, and his expression was so distressed it made Craig’s heart sink. “Part of me’s happy I beat Cartman up, but part of me’s scared about what everyone will think after this. Like, will they think I’m violent and unbalanced? A-and will they believe Cartman and call you retarded too? I’m really worried, gahh!”

“I don’t know…” Craig admitted, wanting to reach over to Tweek’s cot and give him a hug. “I mean, nobody likes Cartman much but he’s good at convincing people when he wants too and we’re not that popular among the other kids…”

“Exactly!” Tweek exclaimed. “He’s a fat pig while we’re the mentally disabled kids! I betcha anything the other’s would choose what he thinks over what WE think.”

“Clyde and Token wouldn’t.”

“But that’s only because they’ve known us since we were all four! I mean, I highly doubt they would either, considering Clyde didn’t seem to know what retarded meant when Cartman first yelled it at you, b-but the peer pressure might force them to give in-nngh!”

“Tweek, come here,” Craig interrupted him, shifting slightly so that there was room for Tweek’s tiny frame on the cot for him to lay down next to Craig. Tweek looked confused for a second, but got up anyway and sat down on the spot that Craig saved for him.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Tweek asked, looking like he wanted to lie down, but was too scared to try. 

“If I minded, would I be offering it?” Craig raised an eyebrow.

“A-alright then…” Tweek laid down on the cot properly, so close to Craig that their noses brushed together. 

“Better?” Craig asked, knowing that he was probably blushing just from this small amount of intimacy.

“I guess. Continuing…” Tweek said, acting as though none of that had happened, “I-I’m still worried about what will happen when we go back to school tomorrow, like what will the other’s think of us then? Will Cartman be back to taunt us or give us glares from across the room? I-it’s too much pressure just thinking about it!”

“Tweek, hold on a second,” Craig said, realizing that just being close wasn’t helping Tweek with his anxiety. He reached down and unzipped his backpack, pulling out Peter. Peter had survived the event unscathed, which was a relief. Craig didn’t want to even think about what Cartman could have done to him if he had discovered him.

“Here you go.” Craig said, pushing Pete into Tweek’s trembling arms and laying back down. “Just, calm down, okay?”

“Calm down, calm down…” Tweek repeated, squeezing Peter tight. “I-I’m trying! I just don’t know why YOU’RE not freaking out, considering Cartman was the one who bugged you first!”

Craig went silence, trying to figure out how to put what he was thinking into words. He of course, was very rattled and frightened by what had happened, still not believing that Cartman went as far as trying to force a meltdown out of him to prove a point to everyone on the playground that he was a mentally disturbed and retarded individual. While it was happening, it had made him realize that while today had been the first day that he had known the definition of that awful word, it hadn’t been his first time hearing it. 

Back when he was very small, maybe around two, he had indeed heard his father threaten his mother several times that they should institutionalize Craig because he was “retarded” Craig hadn’t understood what he was talking about at that age, but it was far from the last time he had heard that word. When he was older and sometimes caught snippets of his parent’s conversations in passing, he would heard that word being tossed about once in awhile, yet again not knowing what it meant, only that it always came from Mr. Tucker’s mouth and always made Mrs. Tucker leap up and start yelling at him. More often than not a middle finger was involved too. Craig would always creep away when the yelling started, not wanting to get involved under any circumstance and wanting to get away before Ruby woke up from the noise and started screaming. 

This realization that it always came from his father made Craig’s hidden anxiety try and resurface, this realization that perhaps Craig’s father wasn’t the tall, mysterious, but protective of his son and daughter figure that Craig always believed he was. 

“Craig, you okay there? Y-you’re all pale and shaky.”

“Oh, uh…” Craig looked over at Tweek, who’s green eyes were wide with concern for him. “I’m fine! Totally good and all that.”

Tweek’s look that seemed to say “I can see through your bullshit, Craig,” made Craig backtrack and begin again “I-I mean, I was really freaked by what Cartman did, it wasn’t cool, and I wish I could reverse all that I heard him say and just bask in my ignorance, but it had to come out eventually and, and-” He could feel tears stinging his eyes as he blabbed out the words that he had no idea that he was holding in, only saying them originally as a cover up to the things he thought he had been the most worried.

“Shhh, calm down,” Tweek whispered, the last two words being the very ones Craig had been repeating to Tweek. “You’re better than a sack of shit like him and don’t let him get to you! He’s gone now, and if he wants to bother you, h-he’ll have to get through me first!”

If Craig hadn’t seen for himself firsthand what Tweek was capable of in terms of defense, he might have laughed or played along, but since he had, he didn’t say anything, just smiled at him in a doofy way with tears still damp on his cheeks and gasping when Tweek shoved Peter into his arms as a gesture of comfort. 

“Sorry, it just all came out I guess…” Craig said, his voice muffled by Peter’s soft fur as he breathed in the scent that Tweek’s skin had left behind. “How’d you beat him up so well anyway?”

“Kinda instinctively I guess.” Tweek shrugged, “You were in deep trouble and I was like “I gotta do something” and I sure as hell did.”

“You sure did.” Craig nodded. “Do you suppose you teach me?”

“Maybe, if I can figure out how to do it again.” Tweek laughed, his tone modest. In that moment, with his sweet face laughing and his hair all messed up from lying on the cot, Craig wanted to tell him, tell him everything, since they were in such a confessing mood towards each other, just tell him that he really liked him a lot and maybe even loved him a lot too. But just as he opened his mouth, he heard someone calling his name frantically, forcing him to pull away and look up at his Mother’s worried face.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re both alright!” Mrs. Tucker scooped the two of them off their cot and hugged them tightly, until Craig’s squirming to break free from her grasp got too out of hand and she let go. 

“Miss Gollum told me everything over the phone.” Mrs. Tucker said breathlessly. “I’m so glad you weren’t seriously hurt!”

“I think my pride’s hurt more than anything else,” Craig grinned, trying to joke about it. His mother looked like she wanted to burst into tears and drew Craig once more in another crushing embrace.

“Will my Mama be here soon?” Tweek asked when she let go of Craig again, causing him to stagger back onto the cot, wheezing. 

“She’s been informed of this too, but, my gosh!” She threw up her hands and looked exhausted momentarily “You two have had quite the busy day between this morning and this afternoon alone.”

“It feels like today has lasted a week.” Tweek piped up, Craig nodding in agreement. 

“I feel bad leaving you here alone dear, but we must be going now.” Mrs. Tucker picked up Craig’s backpack and sat Craig up to help him put it on. “Will you be alright on your own until your Mama arrives?”

“I-I think so,” Tweek gulped, looking around the office as though he was hoping she could materialize out of nowhere. 

“If you need to call us for any reason, Miss Gollum or Principal Victoria will be able to help you out, alright?”

“A-alright.” Tweek stammered, looking panicked at the thought of having to ask either of them for help and using the phone for anything at all.

Mrs. Tucker ruffled his hair, took Craig’s hand, and just as she was leading him out of the nurse’s office, he spun around and let go to run back to Tweek.

“I-I almost forgot!” Craig panted. He was tempted to try and confess now, but no, it was a bad idea with his mother hanging around. “Here.”

He shoved Peter back into Tweek’s shaking arms.

“Craig, isn’t he supposed to-”

“We can pass him between us whenever we’re feeling upset or something.” Craig blurted out, avoiding Tweek’s eyes. “Because he’s nice and soft and-oh never mind, just take him so I don’t keep Mommy waiting.”

“Thank you.” Tweek murmured, still clutching Peter tightly as Craig rejoined his mother and left the office. When Craig looked back, Tweek was still hugging Peter in a tight grip, kissing his long ears. The action of him kissing the stuffed rabbit made Craig blush and he turned away so that he wouldn't be caught staring. 

“That was sweet of you dear.” Mrs. Tucker smiled down at Craig as they walked down the school hallway.

“He looked really sad, he needed a stuffed animal to hug.” Craig stated, hoping she didn't see how pink his cheeks still were.

“I’m very glad you two have each other’s backs.” Mrs. Tucker mused. “You really care about him, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I do.” Craig sighed, really hoping now that his mother hadn't noticed his blushing. Deep down, he really wished that he had gotten to confess before his mother came in and whisked him away.

But then again, if he had told Tweek, what would have Tweek thought? Would he have panicked, tried to hit Craig, or just looked at him like he actually was retarded?

Craig hoped that if he got the chance to try again, that Tweek would accept and say that he loved him back too.

He could only hope for now.


	14. In Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I will say I'M REALLY REALLY REALLY sorry this chapter is sooooooo lateeeee D: So much came up in my life (artblock, mental health problems, school started back up, and so much more) that I just had no time to write for pleasure ;w; I hope to never have a gap between chapters as long as this, but I can't make any promises. 
> 
> Also I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit of a mess. Putting it all together was tricky and I'm not sure I'm 100% happy with how it came out. But I hope you guys enjoy it anyway! ^^ Thank you all for being so patient!

The next few weeks passed smoothly despite all that had occurred back on that eventful day on the playground. Cartman didn’t hear any of these apologizes, as he was absent from class during a huge chunk of the time, to heal from the injuries Tweek had inflicted on him. The majority of Craig’s classmates seemed relieved, treating their days without him like a vacation, basking in the moments when he wasn’t spewing insults or farting. Even Mr. Garrison seemed to be in a better mood without Cartman in the classroom causing trouble. 

Craig used this Cartman free time to adjust to his new school equipment in class and luckily, despite the fact that everything was so much more visible than it had been before, the bullying and name calling didn’t continue on beyond that horrible incident. Most likely, they either didn’t know what Cartman had meant when he called Craig the R word, or they knew and didn’t agree with him. Some of them even went over to Craig and apologized for not helping when Craig was clearly in distress. Of all the classmates who apologized to him, some of the most notable ones were Kyle, Butters, and Kenny, even though Kenny hadn’t been there to witness it. Kyle had probably filled him in afterwards, no doubt. 

“I-I really had no idea what he meant, honest!” Butters sobbed into worn security blanket. 

“You’re fine, it’s fine.” Craig insisted over and over again, patting Butters awkwardly on the back before letting him leave so that he could sob in a corner or something. He didn’t really blame Butters, he was just a gullible as could be and could be manipulated to do anything if one wished to do so. Like Cartman often did.

“I would have been at him if Stan hadn’t been holding me back.” Kyle frowned, giving Stan, who was reading in the book corner, a long look. Stan didn’t notice, too absorbed in The Berenstain Bears. 

“Why’d he do that?” Kenny asked, pulling his hood down a bit so that his voice wouldn’t be so muffled. “You’ve told me about this event several times now and you’ve never brought up why.”

“Because I don’t know why. Stan won’t tell me either.” Kyle slumped against a chair in frustration. “He doesn’t like fighting, but he doesn’t usually let people get away with bullying like he did back then.” 

“Maybe he didn’t want you to get hurt?” Tweek suggested, having come up behind them so oddly quiet that he startled them. 

“Possibly, but still…” Kyle looked up, still frowning. “I guess we’ll never know unless he spills the beans one day, and who knows when that will happen.”

“Yeah, who knows.” Craig shrugged, although he was only saying that to be considerate. He didn’t know Stan very well at all to pass too much judgement. 

“By the way…” Kyle turned to Tweek and grinned. “You did a great job beating the shit outta the fatass. I’ve never seen him so bloody and beat before!”

“He deserved it!” Tweek huffed, but he seemed proud, smiling a little as he high fived Kyle and watched him walk away with Kenny. He looked so sweet, all beaming with pride. It was one of those moments that Craig wanted to try again to tell him everything he had bottled up, but alas, Mr. Garrison announced that break was over and they needed to get back to work. 

That interruption wasn’t the only time Craig had been cut off. Over the course of the next few weeks during the duration of Cartman’s recovery and beyond that, Craig tried again and again to find the right time to tell Tweek know what he was dying to say, but things always got in the way just when he was about to open his mouth and say it. He was getting beyond sick of it and more and more determined to finally let it loose at SOME point. 

“It’s like I’m cursed!” Craig complained to Token and Clyde one Sunday afternoon, a few days after Kyle and his friends had apologized to him. It was late September, the weather was getting too brisk to really spend a lot of time outdoors so they were all hanging out at Token’s big fancy house for a play date and they were now waiting on their mother’s to pick them up. Tweek had already been collected five minutes earlier by his own mother and as soon as he was out the door, Craig immediately got upset. He had, once more, tried to pull Tweek aside to tell him and then the doorbell rang and that was that. He had failed yet again.

“Dude, you can do it in front of us if you need too.” Clyde shrugged, leaning back on the massive leather couch Token’s family had in their living room. 

“But I want privacy when I do say it!” Craig tried to explain. “I-I mean, Tweek’s so anxious, he wouldn’t want something like that said when others are around to overhear.”

“It’s either that or you’re too much of a pansy to say “I love you Tweek” out loud when we’re around.” Clyde snorted.

“S-shut up!” Craig moaned, grabbing a nearby pillow and burying his face into it. “I want it to be special, that’s all!”

“Well, try and make it special then!” Token suggested.

“How should I do that?” Craig asked. “We’re five-I don’t even know how my Mommy and Daddy got together!” 

“They never told you?” Clyde asked, his dog like brown eyes widening.

“No, and I never asked.” Craig admitted. “I-I didn’t think about til just now. Now I wish I knew.” 

“Maybe if you ask them, you’ll get some ideas on a better way to tell him.” Token said, always the rational thinker. “It’s worth a shot.”

“I suppose….” Craig sighed, picking at a loose piece of thread in the pillow. Maybe that was a bad idea since the pillow was probably expensive like the rest of the stuff in Token’s house, but he didn’t really care. “Maybe I’ll asked Mommy about it in the car.”

“Or you could do it when they’re both there.” Clyde said.

“That would have to be in about two days from now.” Craig groaned. “Daddy’s on a business trip. It’s just Mommy looking Ruby and I right now.” 

“I barely see your Daddy.” Clyde said. “He’s never around when I’m over at your house. What’s he like?”

“He’s, uh…” Craig tried to think about what his Daddy was like. To him, he had always been like a giant. Even now, after he had a growth spurt over summer that caused him to be nearly a head taller than the ever tiny Tweek, he only came up to just above his father’s knee. He had a deep voice and was tall and thickset. He was very strong and was able to hold him and Ruby at the same time with minimal effort, while his mother broke out into a sweat when she tried to carry the two of them at once these days. 

Sometimes, he did scare him. He got loud when he lost his temper, which was often, and he could sometimes hear his parents arguing downstairs when he was in bed. It made him upset whenever that happened and he wished he could tell them to stop, especially since he heard his name and Ruby’s name in them often, as though they were part of the problems they were arguing about. They probably were, seeing that Ruby was just seven months old and sometimes had issues sleeping through the night and nursing and Craig-well, he knew he was the definition of a problem from day one in his family’s house and sometimes, it was something he couldn’t help. 

Since he was with his mother so much and she was the one in charge of managing his therapy and school things, his father also wasn’t as much in the “know-how” of Craig’s Aspergers. He sometimes made odd comments about it, Craig noticed, like it was just a temporary problem that Craig could be cured of when he was older. Craig wished he wouldn’t think of it like that because, he, Craig, was only five and knew for sure he was going to be stuck with it forever. His mother and nearly all his therapists had made that clear to him straight away. Maybe it would get easier to deal with, but it wouldn’t go away even with extensive therapy. 

But despite all that and the fact that he didn’t hang out with his father as much and was still a bit scared of him, Craig did really like him at times. He showed his affection in different ways, such as helping him reach things he couldn’t, feeding Stripe for him during days when Craig forgot or was too tired after school, sticking glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, or tell him he was worth all the trouble after spilling his adoption story. Maybe he was a bit awkward about it, like Craig was too, but he did care about him, a lot. He was his father, he loved him for all the trouble Craig was worth despite the fact that he wasn’t his biological son. 

Or at least Craig hoped so, as he thought about it further. 

“He’s nice,” was all Craig ended up saying to a slightly disappointed Clyde and Token as his mother rang the doorbell to pick him up.

Two days later, Mr. Tucker was back from his trip, but he was too exhausted to really talk with anyone until dinner that night. Even then, something else was brought up that proved to be more important at the current time than anything else that was going on, overwriting nearly everything Craig had been contemplating over the last two days. 

“Tomorrow’s the first day of October.” Mrs. Tucker commented, looking over at the calendar of tropical birds she had tacked on the fridge back in January.

“That means Ruby will be eight months old soon.” Mr. Tucker said, leaning over to ruffle her hair as she made finger paintings of her mashed squash. It was getting longer by the day and also turning more strawberry-blonde, with a reddish sheen under the light of the ceiling lamp. 

“And Halloween!” Craig piped up, wanting to contribute to the list of important events coming up. 

“That’s right!” Mrs. Tucker laughed, glad for Craig’s enthusiasm. “This year will mark your second time trick or treating. Are you looking forward to it?”

“Oh course,” Craig said, thinking about how Halloween had been like for him over the past few years. When he was much smaller, his parents had tried to dress him up and take him around for candy from the neighbors, but he had always hated how uncomfortable the costumes had been, had hated coming up to strangers and being forced to look at freaky decorations, and would rather play with the crinkly shiny wrappers of the candy than actually eat it. One picture from their photo album was Craig at two years old, lying on the living room floor on Halloween Night. He had shucked off his uncomfortable monkey costume his mother had dressed him in just hours before and was sitting in just a diaper, sucking on a wrapped Three Musketeers Bar. Of all the embarrassing photos in the album though, it was probably the least offensive and Craig at least looked content to be almost naked and holding a piece of candy, even if he showed no interest in actually eating it. 

Things were very different after Craig had started preschool. Halloween had been a big deal and they were all hyped up over it through different crafts, activities, even a big class costume party. It had been the first year that Craig had actually been really interested in Halloween because for the first time, he saw it as something other than itchy costumes and scary strangers.

It had also been the first time he went Trick or Treating with actual friends. He hadn’t gone all out with his costume at all that year, just had his mother paint his face and put him in a brown sweater and went around saying he was a guinea pig for Halloween. This costume had been his second choice because none of the Red Racer costumes in his size were comfortable and his mother’s energy was limited due to her pregnancy. Looking back, he wished he had agreed to wearing something cooler, because in hindsight it wasn’t the greatest costume. Clyde’s Cookie Monster costume had been more memorable by comparison. 

“Have any costume ideas?” Mr. Tucker asked. “I know you were never into the whole wearing costumes thing, but do you have any ideas of what you would want?”

“A spaceman.” Craig blurted out without hesitation. He had been thinking about it for months and really wanted to go through with it.

“I’m sure there’s spaceman costumes in stores somewhere.” Mrs. Tucker said, giving her husband a look. “But if we can’t find one, we’ll do our best with something else or maybe make one from scratch. Does that sound fine?” 

“Fine, but it had better look good.” Craig said, rolling peas around on his plate with his fork. 

“Don’t play with your food, son.” Mr. Tucker said, looking at him warningly. 

“Sorry Daddy,” Craig apologized, trying to sit up better and stab his peas with the tines of his fork. One of them bounced and hit his father’s forehead before landing on the floor.

“Craig!” Mr. Tucker groaned, looking angry but also close to laughter, his mouth unable to keep frowning before he eventually gave in and just laughed aloud heartily about Craig’s little mishap. 

“It was the pea’s fault, not mine!” Craig insisted somewhat pathetically while his mother started laughing into her napkin next to him. Ruby laughed too, even though she had no idea what was going on. She was just laughing along with everyone else. 

It was moments like these, Craig realized as he grinned at his father’s amusement over what he had done, what made him remember that despite all the distance and mystery between their relationship, he still loved him. If he hadn’t, why would he be laughing so hard over something silly like this?

It was only, after dinner was through and he was in bed, thinking back to their laughter hours before, that he remembered what he had wanted to ask them. He punched his pillow in anger, angry that his chance to ask both of them at once had slipped away like water through his fingers in his excitement over Halloween and the distraction of making a fool of himself with his food. 

At school the next day, Token and Clyde pounced on him as soon as he walked through the doors and dragged him off to a deserted corner of the classroom near the art supply closet, full of questions on how Craig asking his parents went. Their faces fell when Craig confessed that he had forgotten all about it when he had the chance.

“Craig, who do you keep doing this to yourself?” Token groaned, face-palming. 

“I really was planning on it!” Craig insisted, feeling guilty. “We just brought up Halloween and we were all so excited that we just kept talking and talking and...I forgot…” 

“Hey, it’s okay it was Halloween talk.” Clyde said. “That shit’s important after all.” 

“Clyde, it’s not really.” Token said, groaning under his breath.

“It is!” Clyde looked like Token had told him something too horrible for words. “Halloween’s the best holiday of the year!”

“Didn’t you say that when Christmas rolled around last year?” Craig asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shut up! I love the holidays okay!” Clyde insisted. “And Halloween and Christmas are tied for first, that’s all!”

“Did someone say Halloween?”

Tweek had appeared at their little corner, peering at them cautiously as his left eye did it’s usual twitch. 

“Yeah, we’re talking about it.” Craig said, relieved to see Tweek’s face, for he had internally panicked when he saw he wasn’t there when he arrived. “What took you so long to get here?”

“Oh!” Tweek yelped. “Mama was just a bit slow getting ready this morning, t-that’s all! She’s like that sometimes.” 

“Okay then.” Token said, patting Tweek’s shoulder to let him know he was forgiven for his late arrival. 

“Speaking of Halloween,” Clyde piped up, “Do you guys have any ideas on what you want to be for Halloween this year?”

“No clue.” Token shrugged. 

“A spaceman.” Craig said, just as bluntly as he had said it at dinner the night before.

“Of course you would.” Clyde snickered, trying to hide his smirk in his hands. “I’m surprised it took you this long to want a astronaut costume after all the times we’ve placed Spaceman up in your room.” 

“Oh shush,” Craig snapped, flipping him off while Token and Tweek laughed at their antics. 

“So, uh, you know what you wanna be for Halloween yet Tweek?” Clyde asked after their laughter quieted down somewhat. “I’m going as the Red Power Ranger and it would be fun to have you come Trick or Treating with us this year!” 

“Uhh, no…” Tweek hung his head, looking ashamed. “I-I’m not really looking forward to it.”

“Why not?” Clyde asked, looking genuinely curious to hear why. Craig wanted to hear too, since Tweek had completely passed up Trick or Treating last year and had just helped his parents hand out candy and pumpkin cookies. He hadn't even dressed up. 

“W-well, everyone dresses up in freaky costumes a-and puts up witches and mummies all covered in fake blood and play horror music a-and it freaks me out, ack!” He pulled his hair for emphasis when he finished his outburst, like he usually did.

“That’s part of the fun though!” Clyde said, looking scandalized. “It wouldn’t be Halloween without all that freaky stuff!”

“It still gives me the creeps and makes me scared!” Tweek shot back, still pulling on some locks of his golden hair. 

Craig knew how he felt. When he was much smaller, he had felt the same about all the creepy decorations that the neighbors put up in their yards. He could still remember the time he parents tried to take him out again in Halloween when he was three. They had really tried that year, even finding a costume for Craig that wasn’t uncomfortable for his sensory issues (a custom made Superman outfit complete with red cape.) He had made progress in therapy since the previous Halloween, but one anamatronic werewolf later and he ran back screaming and wailing to his mother and she took him straight home to prevent further trouble and a public meltdown. He spent the rest of the night watching the Charlie Brown Halloween special on TV and drinking hot chocolate under a blanket on the couch and it turned out to be one of the better Halloween’s he had experienced in quite a while, after about three really awful experiences beforehand. 

“Tweek, uh, can I tell you something?” Craig said.

“Uhh, what is it?” Tweek asked, letting one of his hands drop to his side. “If you’re gonna tell me that I’m being a sissy about this I don’t wanna hear it-” 

“That’s not what I wanted to say!” Craig said. He leaned in a bit closer and said in a softer voice, “I used to be scared of Halloween too.”

“Really?” Tweek exclaimed, letting his other hand go at last. “I didn’t know that!”

“Same.” Token added and Clyde nodded in agreement. “When was that?”

“When I was like, two and three, I hated it.” Craig frowned. “Too many strangers and too much spooky stuff. I just wanted to stay home and watch movies and not go around in uncomfortable costumes collecting candy I didn’t even want to eat.” 

“What changed that?” Clyde asked.

“Therapy helped me get over some of my fears and discomforts, and I also grew up a bit.” Craig shrugged. “But anyway, Tweek….” He tipped Tweek’s chin up a little bit with his fingertips, attempting eye contact for this. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna go. We’ll understand and we’ll bring you lots of candy if you’d like afterwards.”

“N-no! Actually…” Tweek looked anxious again and turned away to look at some art project on the wall that might have been made by either Wendy or Stan. “I-I’ll come Trick or Treating with you guys. It could be fun and I r-really need to stop being such a baby…”

“You’re not a baby, promise me. But what made you change your mind?” Craig asked him, although he had a vague idea. 

“Y-you did,” Tweek flushed. “I mean, if you can be so scared of Halloween and be able to get over it, t-then so can I!”

“Okay then,” Craig said, trying to not let his happiness that he had convinced Tweek get to his head. “But, this is only the first day of October. If you change your mind again sometime during this month, we’ll understand.”

“Okay…” Tweek nodded slowly, still pink cheeked, the hue strong enough to dim his freckles. When Mr. Garrison called them all to their seats a few seconds later for roll call, Craig grabbed Tweek’s hand and let him to their table, Clyde and Token snickering about it behind them. When Mr. Garrison had his back turned to write something on the board, Craig flipped them off for the second time that morning in retaliation.

The entire month of October felt like a blur to Craig. The leaves all turned orange and yellow and red and scattered along the yards both front and back and covered the sidewalks. Clyde loved to crunch his feet through them while they walked to school, but Craig always tried to step over them, hating the sound they made because in his ears, it sounded like someone was walking on hot crunchy coals and it wasn’t a pleasant noise to him at all. He didn’t want to dampen Clyde’s fun though, so he just gritted his teeth and tried to block out the sound mentally, or pulled his chullo hat further down over his ears. 

At school, they all made various Halloween crafts and decorations to decorate the classroom, covering it in paper bats, pumpkins, and ghosts and hanging up orange and black crepe paper streamers. They all had fun doing this, but unfortunately, Cartman made his return to class during the first week of October and went right back to causing trouble, doing things such as tearing down streamers and stealing the paper things off the walls, causing everyone to have to tear apart the classroom to find them again. He gave Craig and Tweek a lot of dark looks, but luckily, it seemed he had learned his lesson for now and didn’t approach or insult either of them about anything, even when Tweek made a mistake in his cutting and made the bat he was making headless. Craig and the others later made it an inside joke while they were over at Craig’s house afterwards, calling it “The Headless Batman,” which made a previously upset Tweek laugh so hard that he fell off the living room couch.

When Craig wasn’t busy participating in school activities, he was helping his mother out with his Halloween costume. Ruby was easy, she was just going to wear the old costume that Craig wore when he was nine months old: a baby teddy bear costume. Mrs. Tucker bought a little pink ribbon to go around Ruby’s neck like a loose choker, and when she put it on her, Ruby looked absolutely adorable in the little fuzzy, cinnamony brown bear suit. She seemed very content in her little costume, despite it being a bit too big for her tiny body. Craig had seen pictures of him in the costume in the photo album, too small to go trick or treating, but seemingly upset anyway, his mouth open to scream in almost every photo his parents had taken of him, ruining the “First Halloween” mojo they had going on. 

Craig’s costume ended up being more complicated to put together then they had anticipated. They did manage to find Spaceman costumes at the grocery store, but they either didn’t fit well or were so uncomfortable, Craig threw them off immediately because they just felt that bad, his sensitive body screaming in protest. So they returned them and went to the craft store instead to pick up the materials they would need to make a spaceman outfit that was the right size AND felt comfortable enough for Craig’s sensory issues to not be a problem. 

Craig watched his mother sew his costume intently everyday after school, sitting at the kitchen table with her to watch her stitch things together with their portable electric sewing machine. She liked to put on music while she worked, so Craig loaned her his walkman from school, unplugging the headphones so that they could all hear it. The sweet sounds of Radiohead and Tori Amos filled the room most of the time, with some David Bowie and The Beatles once in awhile too. 

“Is it done yet?” was the question that Craig asked the most whenever she finished a row of neat stitches. 

“No dear,” was usually the answer as she reached over to either flip the fabric, grab some new pieces, or reach across the table to attend to Ruby, who sat in her baby seat on the table as she worked so she could keep an eye on her at all times. 

Craig was allowed to play with the fabric scraps that his mother didn’t need, which made him very happy. He had specifically picked fabric that felt good on his skin and under his fingertips, a soft green with a shimmer and a silky feel to it. It felt so good to stim with that he even brought them to school to use, despite liking the stim toys he had to use in the classroom just fine. She had also bought a gray fabric to use for his spaceman gloves and that was also shimmery, but didn’t feel as nice as the fabric for the actual suit for stimming. When the main suit and gloves were done, they attached some pretend buttons and wires made of fabric scraps to make it look more like a real spacesuit. By the time the week before Halloween rolled around, Craig’s costume was almost done and was looking great. The only thing they needed now was a space helmet. 

However, that proved to be more of a challenge than either of them had expected. They couldn’t find anything that would work that was the right shape and when it was, it was made of glass and would shatter if Craig accidentally fell over. They needed a round piece of plastic to be able to get the effect they wanted.

Luckily, the problem was solved a mere three days before the big event. Craig had been asking for help among his friends one afternoon at school, getting desperate, when he felt someone tap his shoulder.   
“Hey, don’t do that-oh, hi Kenny,” Craig signed with relief when he realized it was just him.

“Hi,” Kenny said curtly, pulling down his hood like he had last time they really talked so that Craig could hear him better. “You said you were looking for a round piece of plastic?”

“Uh, yeah,” Craig answered, not sure which direction this conversation would go.

“Ask your mom if you can come over to my house after school.” Kenny murmured in a low whisper, enough so that Craig’s friends couldn’t hear it. “I have something I think would work.”

“Okay,” Craig said feebly. This was a good enough answer for Kenny, who just pulled his hood back up and walked away, giving him a thumbs up and a grin half hidden by the folds of his orange parka. 

Craig’s mother said yes, although she didn’t seem pleased that Craig wanted to go to Kenny’s neighborhood, which was the poor part of town. But she agreed to a short visit and let him go home with Kenny, who was accompanied by his mussed and tired looking mother and older brother, Kevin, who was in the third grade. Kenny also had a baby sister, fast asleep in the ragged looking sling his mother wore across her chest. She had to be no older than Ruby. 

“That’s Karen.” Kenny said when he noticed Craig was starting. “You have a baby sister too, right? What’s her name?”

“Ruby.” Craig answered, pulling on his hat strings self consciously. He never liked it when people looked at him in general, but Kenny’s gaze made him especially uncomfortable. He felt like a bug under a microscope and that Kenny had the ability to look inside his head and see everything that he wanted or didn’t want in his life and judge him for it. 

“Oh, pretty name,” Kenny commented. “And good that your names start with different letters. I don’t know what Mom was thinking when she named all three of us names that start with K.” 

Craig wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he stayed quiet until Kenny’s tumbledown wreck of a house came into view. His mother opened the door and shooed the kids inside, muttering about Kevin needing to get started on his homework and needing to nurse Ruby before getting dinner ready. This left Craig and Kenny to their own devices.

“Uhh…” Craig looked around at the house, which smelled awful and looked just as filthy and rundown has it had on the outside. All his friend’s houses were clean and warm and they always were offered homemade snacks soon after they arrived. This clearly wasn’t going to happen at Kenny’s place as he observed the stinking kitchen, which was filled with flies and smelled of rotten food, the scent strong enough to make him recoil in horror, not wanting to believe that quiet but polite Kenny lived in an awful place like this.

“Just follow me,” Kenny murmured without looking at him, motioning over his shoulder for Craig to follow him through the backdoor. Craig followed him dutifully, and found that Kenny’s backyard was pretty much what he should have expected. It was filled with enough junk to look like a regular garbage dump: beer cans, car tires, cardboard boxes, and other broken things. Kenny rushed around and began digging through the biggest pile of junk for something.

“What are you looking for?” Craig asked as he got closer to get a better look. Kenny tossed a rusty gear over his shoulder and it only just missed Craig’s foot, making him yelp and jump out of the way.

“Shit, sorry.” Kenny said, pausing in his frantic digging. “Just come over here and lend a hand, will ya?” 

Craig really didn’t want to touch all those disgusting bits of garbage that made up the pile, but he figured it wasn’t the time to argue and obeyed Kenny, picking at little bits here and there out of curiosity. He liked the sounds that the empty beer cans made when they clinked together, and he enjoyed feeling the little strings on the flat tires too. He was so distracted by these new sensory experience that he didn’t end up helping Kenny all that much until Kenny tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to get back on it.

Finally, Kenny threw one more load of garbage over his shoulder and shouted “Eureka!”

“What’d you find?” Craig asked.

“This!” Kenny grinned a grin that showed a missing front tooth and held out his find. It the clear plastic top of a gumball machine. It was in relatively good shape (minus a small hole in the front) and it looked like it would be perfect for finishing off Craig’s Halloween costume. 

“Hey, try it on!” Kenny urged, shoving it into Craig’s open hands.

Craig hesitated for a second, worried that it wouldn’t fit somehow, but put it on in the end. It slipped over his head easily and was big enough for his entire head down to the base of the neck, even with his hat on. Thanks to the small hole, he even had air coming through so that he wouldn’t suffocate. It was a perfect fit.

“Lookin’ good!” Kenny hooted, still flashing his missing tooth grin. 

“It’s...perfect, thank you.” Craig grinned back, feeling awkward about saying that in front of Kenny, who he still didn’t know as well as Token or Clyde or as intimately as Tweek. 

“What’s wrong?” Kenny frowned and cocked his head, some straw colored blonde hairs slipping free from the hood of his parka. “You look like you’re in pain with that face.”

“Oh, sorry…” Craig removed the makeshift space helmet and looked down at his lap, sighing. “I...I’m bad at this stuff, sorry…” 

“No need to be sorry, emotions don’t come easy for everyone and you obviously don’t know me as well as your other friends,” Kenny said, patting Craig’s shoulder. His hand was covered in dirt and a bit sticky, but Craig realized he didn’t mind. 

“Besides…” Kenny stretched back onto the ground, his head coming to rest on a discarded tire. “I’ve seen you around your little friend group and you do just fine. You do even better when you’re around Tweek actually, and man sometimes I envy Tweek and wish I could make more stoic people like you laugh and blush like that!”

“Y-You know about how I feel about Tweek?” Craig gasped, the words out of his mouth before he could shut himself up.

“Of course,” Kenny shrugged. “I’ve noticed it all since pre school. You’ve made a good choice in liking him, he’s pretty darn adorable if I do say so myself.”

“Ahhh….should I be flattered by this?” Craig asked.

“Of course you should.” Kenny laughed. “Tweek likes you too, that’s also been obvious from the start. So why the hell haven’t you too decided to say anything about your feelings at all? I’ve been waiting on it for over a year!”

“Well, it’s, uhh…” Craig looked down again, tugging the hat over his face to hide his pink tinged face. “I keep trying! It just never works. I always get interrupted or distracted or it’s never the right time and it’s getting worse and worse as it goes on and-”

“Woah woah woah, calm down Tucker.” Craig looked up in alarm at being addressed by his last name instead of his first. “First off, it’s okay to be stressed about it because I get it, that’s pretty frustrating. But you need to keep trying-”

“That’s what I’ve been doing!”

“-and also sometimes see if Tweek is trying to say the same to you.” Kenny finished, pretending that Craig hadn’t tried to interrupt him. 

“I’m not sure if he’s tried,” Craig admitted.

“Are you really sure?” Kenny asked, a blonde eyebrow raised. 

Craig sighed and slipped a hat string into his mouth as an excuse to not say anymore, but Kenny tugged it right out, which made Craig gap at him in horror. No one had physically removed anything from his mouth since he was about three and a half and realized it was a futile effort to get him to stop chewing on things in public.

“...Okay, maybe I’ve just made this all about me trying to tell him and I get stressed that he won’t feel the same back.” Craig grumbled when the string was gone and he had nothing else as an excuse for not answering. 

“He does, I can tell.” Kenny assured him. “How about I offer you a suggestion?”

“What is it?”

“On Halloween Night, try and be as nice as nice to Tweek are you can.” Kenny said. “That shouldn't be too hard since you both spend so much time together anyway and since he’s been a little nutcase about all the spooky stuff, he’ll want you near to make sure he’s okay.”

“Uhhh…” Craig just started at Kenny, cocking his head a little to make sure he heard all that. How the hell did he know so much about Tweek and himself when he had barely talked to them until now?

“Just do what you normally do, except that it will be Halloween and you’ll both be in costumes, but besides that, just see what goes down. If he doesn’t approach you or gets interrupted and whisked away, then just get back to trying and make sure to pay attention to when he’s trying to say something like it to you. Got it?”

“Okay, but…” Craig wasn’t sure how to put this without sounding rude. “How do you know so much about us? W-we barely even talk on a daily basis!”

“Being quiet and often ignored can make you rather observant.” Kenny explained. 

“Uhh, I’m really sorry you feel so ignored all the time….” Craig started to apologize.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it,” Kenny shrugged. He flashed Craig one of his gap toothed grins just as a car horn went off by the front lawn, making them both jump.

“T-that must be my mommy,” Craig mumbled, getting up off the ground and dusting off his pants. 

“Hey, don’t forget what you came for.” Kenny reminded him, handing him the makeshift helmet before getting up himself.

“Thanks, I owe you for this.” Craig said. “This, and what you said about Tweek and I’s dilemma.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Kenny grinned again, shoving Craig through the backdoor. “Just have a good time and tell me how things went...if you feel like you need too.”

“I...uhh...thanks again!” Craig spluttered, clutching the helmet to his chest and rushing through the house and through the backdoor without sparing Kenny a second glance. He liked Kenny, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be super buddy-buddy with him like he was with Token, Clyde, and Tweek. Maybe someday, but he still wasn’t certain due to how quirky and unpredictable the words that came out of Kenny’s usually silent mouth were.

His mother stepped out of the car when he arrived out front, to help him into his car seat and to take a closer look at what Kenny had given him.

“The plastic dome of a gumball machine, huh,” Mrs. Tucker murmured, taking it front Craig’s hands to survey it for any sort of problems that would make it unsuitable. 

“It fit when I put it on and I could breathe thanks to that little crack.” Craig said. “But do you think it will work with the rest of my costume?”

“It should, don’t worry dear.” Mrs. Tucker said. “It will need a bit of cleaning and spiffing up, that’s all. That was very nice of Kenny to give that to you when we were in such a bind getting your costume ready!”

“Yeah, it was,” was all that Craig said while his mother patted him on the head and buckled him into the car, handing him the helmet to hold on the ride home. As they drove past the rest of the houses in Kenny’s neighborhood, which were just as battered and run down as his house was, Craig kept thinking about everything Kenny said to him, hoping, knowing, that Kenny was right about Tweek and himself and it would all work out in the end.

He really wanted to believe that, but he knew from here on out he could only wait and see what would unfold on Halloween night, when he would give Tweek the reigns and watch the outcome of it all.


	15. Night Time Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, it's been a long time since my last update (In fact I'm started my next college semester the day after posting this) and I'll keep why I was having so many delays relatively short
> 
> -Schoolwork slammed me during my last semester and I had to focus on it  
> -I hit a ton of dead ends and art block with this chapter  
> -My mental health has been struggling on and off and it also prevented me from writing more.   
> -and sometimes, just general laziness.
> 
> I really can't guarantee that the next chapter will come sooner, but I will try to not make it as long as the gap between last chapter and this one were.
> 
> Thank you very much for your patience everyone, it's very much appreciated! (and just so you know how far this was delayed, this chapter was supposed to come out on Halloween *coughs*)

“Craig, stop squirming! The sooner your stop, the quicker you’ll have your costume on!”

“Okay, sorry Mommy!”

It was Halloween night at last. Halloween fell on a Monday that year and Mr. Garrison didn’t approve of anyone in the class wearing costumes to school, but he was nice enough to give them only a half day, so that meant Craig had the whole afternoon to plan with his mother what he would be doing that night with his friends. When he wasn’t doing that, he was playing with his moon sand on the kitchen table, in preparation of becoming a spaceman that evening. He also played with Stripe, but since he wouldn’t be coming with Craig for Trick or Treating as a space guinea pig, he just gave him some carrots instead as a Halloween treat because he knew he couldn’t eat candy. 

Mrs. Tucker had fixed everyone an early dinner, around five o’clock, and now, finally, she was getting Craig all dressed for Trick or Treating, which would be starting around six. It was already dark out as his mother helped him put everything on.

“Almost done now?” Craig whinned. She was taking awhile with the buttons she had sewn in the back that got Craig in and out of his costume. Sewing a zipper had proved to be too complicated in the end. 

“Just one more thing…” Mrs. Tucker reached for the space helmet, which was perched on the coffee table, and slipped it over Craig’s head. “Okay, you’re good!”

Craig rushed upstairs to his parents bedroom and looked at himself in the full length mirror they had on the back of their door.

“Wow…” Craig murmured as he touched the mirror, staring closely at his reflection, not quite believing that the boy he was staring back at was him. Even as he changed his positions in the mirror, he was still amazed that it really was him, just in a really cool, one of a kind costume. 

He had already tried on his spacesuit once before, two days ago, but he still marveled at how nice it looked and what a good job his mother did on finding fabric that looked cool and was comfortable on his heightened senses. The green of the suit was perfectly shimmery in the light coming from his parent’s bedside lamp, the gloves were flexible enough for him to stretch his fingers (unlike the other ones he had used previously during the wintertime) and he could breathe and see clearly through the gumball machine helmet, after his mother scrubbed all the grime and dirt off of it with the glass cleaner that had no scent whatsoever. She knew that Craig hated the smell of her lemon scented one.

Now all their hard work making the costume was done, and Spaceman Craig was full on ready for a night of Trick or Treating with his friends.

“Looking good sweetheart,” Mrs. Tucker came into her bedroom, holding Ruby in her arms. She was donned in her bear costume and had been since early that morning, since it had been a rather cold day. “Now, do you remember what the plans we talked about earlier are?”

“Yeah!” Craig said. “At six, Clyde’s Mommy will be picking me up and taking me and Clyde to Token’s so we can Trick or Treat in his neighborhood.” 

“Clyde and I,” Craig’s mother corrected, but she smiled anyway. “And then Tweek will arrive and you can all go out and have fun until nine, when I come to pick you after coming home from your father’s Halloween office party.” Mr. Tucker had left straight after dinner to go and help set up, so Craig wouldn’t be able to show him his costume until much later. 

“Is Ruby coming to that too?” Craig asked. 

“No dear, Mr. Donovan will be coming over to watch her over her until we all come home.” Mrs. Tucker explained to him. 

“Oh, okay.” Craig said, rubbing his fingers over the clear plastic that made up his helmet. If he somehow ran into Kenny tonight while he was Trick or Treating, he would have to thank him once more for what he had provided to make Craig’s costume a reality, and his suggestions about what should be done between Tweek and himself. If his own friends were around to hear that, well….he supposed that would be okay, even if Cartman mocked Kenny’s poverty for the millionth time since Craig had been in the proximity of the two of them. 

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, making Craig jump.

“That must be Clyde's family!” Mrs. Tucker said. “Let’s go let them in.”

Craig ran down the stairs while his mother went to go put Ruby down in her room, pulling the door open to find Mrs. Donovan in the doorway, wearing a pretty black and purple witch costume, with Claire and Clyde in tow. Claire was dressed as Carmen Sandiego, her costume including a red raincoat with a belt tied around it that somehow was quite convincing. Clyde was, as he told Craig and everyone else almost everyday for weeks and weeks, the Red Power Ranger. His costume, unlike Claire’s, was store bought and it made Craig wonder if Mrs. Donovan had either gotten lazy or decided there was no way in hell she would be sewing something so ridiculous looking. Clyde’s face was covered by a helmet so Craig couldn’t see his reaction to his costume, but knowing Clyde (and by realizing he could see his eyes through the helmet if he squinted) he most likely thought it was borderline badass. 

“Trick or Treat!” Clyde sang, holding out an empty orange bucket shaped like the jack-o-lantern Craig’s family had put in their front window. His other hand held a plastic sword, which Craig silently prayed that it wouldn’t break anything during Clyde’s five minute stay. 

“But this is my house.” Craig protested. “You come here all the time.”

“I know, but tonight’s the best night of the year!” Clyde shoved the bucket so forcefully it hit Craig’s helmet with a dull thunk. “Oh, uh, sorry…” Clyde said sheepishly when he saw the unamused expressions Craig, Claire, and his mother were giving him. 

“Here you go Clyde,” Mrs. Tucker laughed, picking up the plastic candy bowl and dropping two Reese's Peanut Butter Cups into his bucket, then handing two packets of Twizzlers to Claire, who had a peanut allergy and couldn’t eat peanut butter cups “without a risk of a painful death” as Clyde had morbidly told Craig one afternoon when they were eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches over at Craig’s house. Craig had been slightly put off from them ever since as a result.

“Thank you!” Clyde cheered, shaking the candy around his almost empty pail with a rattling noise that made Craig want to cover his ears because it hurt to hear it. That, however, wasn’t possible with a plastic space helmet on, so Craig just gritted his teeth and tried to act like he wasn’t bothered by it.

“Clyde, would you please cut that out honey?” Mrs. Donovan asked, coming to Craig’s rescue when she noticed his reaction. “You’re bothering Craig-and the rest of us too.”

“Sorry Sorry!” Clyde whimpered, his arm going still, stopping the noise altogether. 

“Anyway…” Mrs. Tucker said, leaning over Craig to hand him his own Trick-or-treating bucket, which was made of clear, sparkly blue plastic. “I’ll be picking you up at nine, like I said before. Now go have fun!”

“Bye!” Clyde waved enthusiastically, his arm holding his plastic Power Ranger sword going a million miles a minute. Craig wondered if all his energy was from early candy consumption from his family’s candy bowl, which he had seen perched on the kitchen counter since last week (it was all peanut free candy of course). It didn’t seem too unlikely. 

Craig waved to his mother over his shoulder with a bit less manic energy and let Mrs. Donovan lead him and her children outside and across the lawn, where her car was parked in driveway. Mrs. Tucker had already gone over earlier that afternoon to install Craig’s car seat in it, so Mrs. Donovan just opened the doors and let them all scramble inside. 

“Ow!” Craig yelped when his helmet hit the top of the car as he settled himself into his car seat. 

“Careful now children,” Mrs. Donovan cautioned, perhaps a bit too late for Craig. Claire and Clyde heard her and both removed their head accessories before sitting down so that no more trouble would happen. Mrs. Donovan reached over and helped buckle in Craig and Clyde before getting into the front seat of the car herself. 

“We’ll drop off Claire first, and then we’ll be heading to Token’s neighborhood, alright?” Mrs. Donovan asked.

All three of them nodded and Mrs. Donovan ignited the engine and started down the street.

“Token’s still planning on being the Black Ranger, right?” Craig asked.

“Yep.” Clyde nodded, holding his Power Ranger helmet in his lap. His hair, with the helmet removed, was quite the fright and it’s untidiness was not unlike Tweek’s. “Our mommies bought our outfits from the same store actually, so we’re gonna be almost matching!”

“I would of thought Token would have gotten his like, custom made or something, considering he’s rich.” Craig mused.

“I thought the same,” Clyde agreed. “But when I asked him, he said he wanted to feel like he blended in with us better, so I guess that must be why he didn’t.”

“I suppose so,” Craig shifted slightly when Mrs. Donovan parked the car on the curb so that Claire could get out and start her own candy gathering with her friends. “Do you have any ideas what Tweek is being? He still hasn’t told me.”

“Not a clue,” Clyde shrugged. “Token and I figured he would have told you first if anybody.”

“Well, he hasn’t.” Craig said, sighing. “So I’m in the dark as much as you guys are.”

“Speaking of the dark, I hope we don’t get lost in it once we’re out and about,” Clyde said, looking out the window as he watched Claire disappear inside her friend’s house. “It’s really pitch black out tonight even with all these light up decorations and jack-o-lanterns!”

“For once, you’re right,” Craig said as he pressed his face against the car window. It was indeed very dark out and the only reason he could even see what was going on outside was due to the fact that most of the houses were quite well lit in anticipation for trick or treaters.

“I’m always right.” Clyde protested, sounding hurt. “You guys just never think so.” 

“Don’t worry you two, I packed some flashlights just in case,” Mrs. Donovan assured them as she started the car again, not realizing they had insulted each other in between their concerns and her response. “You won’t get lost under my watch!”

“Good to hear,” Craig said, glad that Mrs. Donovan was one of the moms that was accompanying them around Token’s neighborhood for their candy hunting. She was sensible and reassuring in a way that reminded him like his own mother, which was good to have around when she wasn’t with him.

Five minutes later, Mrs. Donovan parked on the curb outside of the gate that separated them from Token’s massive house. It was decked from head to toe in Halloween decorations that either glowed brightly or let out horrifying moans. Craig had seen all the decorations in broad daylight just a few days ago, but they looked so much better (and spookier) at nighttime.

When they got out and walked their way up to Token’s doorstep, Token answered the door before any of them could knock once.

“Happy Halloween!” Token greeted them enthusiastically. “Oh wow, you guys look great!”

“You do too!” Clyde agreed, lunging forward to embrace Token with a tight embrace, leaving him breathless.

“Easy does it Clyde!” Mrs. Donovan reminded him.

“Sorry…” Clyde mumbled, slackening his arms. Now that he was no longer hugging Token, Craig could finally see Token’s costume in full. It was just like Clyde’s, only in black, and it fit him quite well, while Clyde’s couldn’t quite conceal his noticeable baby fat. Just like Clyde, he also had a helmet, which meant figuring out facial expressions would be much harder tonight during the times that he was wearing it. 

“Is Tweek here?” Craig asked when Token motioned for them to come in. The house was also decked out in Halloween decorations, with things like cobwebs on the chandelier in the hall and paper black bats and cats that Craig suspected Token had taped to the wall himself.

“No, but he should be here within the next few minutes.” Token explained as they ventured into the living room, which had fake spooky candles lit on the fireplace and more cobwebs sticking to all the furniture. “He’s not far from here actually, he could practically walk here if he wanted too.”

“He probably wouldn’t want to though.” Clyde said. “You know how he is about crossing the street.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a mess when it comes to that.” Craig admitted. Tweek always panicked a bit at the crosswalks, always saying he was going to be hit by a car or cause a traffic accident or other things along the lines of that. How he had gathered the courage to beat the shit out of Cartman when he still insisted on holding his mother’s hand to cross the street, Craig would never quite know. 

“Oh, hello there kids.” Mrs. Black poked her head out from the doorway that led to her study. “There’s cookies and candy in the kitchen if you want any, and I also heated up some cider. Be good now!”

“We will Momma!” Token smiled at her as she ducked back through the doorway. Mrs. Black was incredibly busy with her work and as a result, she wasn’t going to be accompanying them Trick or Treating either. It would just be Mrs. Donovan and Mrs. Tweak doing that. For Tweek’s sanity, it was probably for the better. 

“Oh boy, candy!” Clyde yelled, tossing his helmet on the couch and running into the kitchen. Just as he vanished out of sight, a loud crash followed, accompanied with a loud shriek.

“Clyde, what have you done NOW?” Mrs. Donovan groaned, rushing in after him. Craig and Token followed her and the source of the crashing noise was made clear: Clyde had slipped on the polished kitchen floor and had rammed headfirst into a kitchen cabinet. He was sitting on the floor now, rubbing his helmet-less head, tears running down his cheeks in rivers. 

“I-I slipped!” Clyde wailed, still massaging his head. “The floor was all shiny and then I fell and hit my head!” 

“Oh, I should have warned you that the kitchen floor was just waxed.” Token said, looking guilty as Mrs. Donovan leaned down to help a still sobbing Clyde off the shiny floor. 

“Any injuries dear?” Mrs. Donovan asked him.

“A bump on my head and my pride as the Red Power Ranger.” Clyde sniffed, allowing her to pull him into a hug as he continued to cry. 

“Clyde, hey, have this.” Token grabbed a pumpkin cookie from the tray placed on the kitchen counter and stuffed it into Clyde’s mouth just as he opened it to let out a wail of anguish.

“Was that necessary?” Craig asked Token as he stepped back to watch Clyde stop crying and remove the cookie from his mouth with a free hand.

“Absolutely.” Token replied, grinning at Clyde, who looked slightly dazed from what had just occurred, still holding the pumpkin shaped cookie in one hand with his brown eyes damp from his tears. He looked so ridiculous that Craig opened his mouth to laugh, but the sound of the doorbell going off made him jump.

“That’s probably Tweek!” Craig heard Token say behind him as he raced out of the kitchen, nearly slipping on the waxed floor himself in his haste. He reached the front door in record time and pulled it open, ready to greet Tweek with open arms.   
But when Tweek and his mother came into view, Craig stopped dead in shock.

“Happy Halloween!” Tweek greeted him cheerfully, but Craig couldn’t respond. He was too busy staring at Tweek’s costume.

It was handmade like his own, but it was completely different from his spaceman costume. Tweek was clad in what seemed to be a white nightgown with a pink sash. The sash seemed to be there to hold up the massive cardboard star that he wore on his back. It was sprayed with gold glitter spray paint to make it sparkle and to hide the edges of the cardboard. Tweek’s face had been brushed with a small amount of glitter too and his costume was so simple but so perfect and adorable, Craig was speechless.

“I-Is something wrong?” Tweek stammered, the smile he had been wearing turning into a worried frown. 

“Uh, no...it’s just…” Craig also began to stammer, trying to say just what he thought about Tweek’s costume. “It’s just...who are you dressed as?”

“Oh!” Tweek exclaimed, smoothing down his nightgown with a free hand (The other held tight to a silver colored bag decked in glitter). “I’m Kiki from Little Twin Stars! Well, I don’t have the blue hair, b-but only cuz Mama said it was unsafe and I could inhale the chemicals and die!”

“That’s okay that you don’t have the right hair color, you look really nice anyway.” Craig said. He made himself say nice instead of cute, not wanting to freak Tweek out in any way, since he already took words the wrong way enough in everyday conversations. 

“Oh, thank god!” Tweek sighed. “I was scared you would find everything about my costume dumb!”

“It’s not dumb to me.” Craig insisted, even though he knew jack shit about the accuracy of Tweek’s costume in comparison to the character. He was vaguely familiar with all the Sanrio characters that he watched cartoons of sometimes while over at Tweek’s house on his VHS player. When Tweek didn’t have something frog themed, he had something with a Sanrio character on it, usually Keroppi because he was a combination of the two. Craig did vaguely recognize Kiki though, since Kiki and his twin sister (Was her name Lala? He couldn’t remember) were on Tweek’s pencil case. Last week, Cartman had tried to steal it when he had his back turned to talk to Clyde. Luckily, Tweek caught him red handed and snatched the case out of his gross sweaty hands before hitting him over the head with it with a loud smack. The welt he left on Cartman’s head didn’t heal for a week. 

Tweek and Cartman were both put in time out for their actions, but Tweek showed no remorse for hitting Cartman for the first time since that day on the playground, this time in his own self defense. In fact, he had actually flipped him off when they were leaving at the end of that very day, despite the fact that Cartman, who had been nursing his injury with an ice pack, was too weak to fight back. Craig, who he had picked it up from, was pleased to have influenced him. 

“Woah Tweek! You look great!”

Craig’s thoughts were interrupted by Token and Clyde, who seemed to have already recovered from his mishap in the kitchen. They raced over to Tweek to get a closer look at his costume, oohing and ahhing as Mrs.Tweak guided Tweek and herself inside and shut the door against the chill. 

“Gosh Tweek!” Clyde cocked his head to view him from another angle. “This getup makes you look like a angel!”

“I kept telling him that, but he kept saying “Mama! I’m a little star named Kiki, not an angel!” Mrs. Tweak laughed, making Tweek flush with embarrassment over her words. 

“Well no matter who you are, you look great.” Token said, grinning through his helmet. 

“Alright kiddos…” Mrs. Donovan came out of the kitchen, adjusting her coat. “You all ready for a fun night of trick-or-treating?”

“Yeah!” Token and Clyde answered in unison, with Craig nodding in agreement. Tweek didn’t say anything, but when Craig looked back at him, his facial expression suggested that he’d rather crawl into a hole and hide.

“Hey,” Craig whispered to him as Token and Clyde gathered up any stray objects and Halloween buckets they have have displaced in the time they had been at Token’s house. ‘You sure you still want to go with us?”

“O-of course!” Tweek insisted indignantly. “You’ll be there with and besides…”

Tweek reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar stuffed rabbit. “I brought Peter along for emergencies!”

“Emergencies?” Craig asked.

“L-like for comfort, in case you or anyone else or myself gets scared…” Tweek said, stowing Peter back into the bag, out of sight. “Halloween is scary and we’re probably not gonna go w-without getting scared at least once tonight!”

Craig was amazed that Tweek had been so thoughtful towards everyone in their little friend group. He hadn’t even thought about what he would even do if he got freaked out by something, outside of having a meltdown perhaps. 

“C’mon guys! We’re gonna miss all the best stuff cause the big kids would have taken it all before we got there!” Clyde whined, dragging his mother out the door. 

“We’d better go after them.” Mrs. Tweak said, taking Tweek’s hand and leading him out the door too, with Craig and Token following. Token was courteous enough to remember to shut the door behind them. 

“Oh, by the way…” Tweek whispered to Craig as they started down the street. “I forgot to mention how much I love your costume! It really suits you.”

“It should suit me, because it’s a space suit.” Craig joked, pretending to flex like Clyde did whenever he told a really horrible pun in their vicinity. 

Tweek at first groaned, then giggled and shifted his bag to his shoulder, so he could reach out and grab Craig’s free hand. Craig took it, and as their little Trick-or-Treating group made their way up the block to the first row of houses, he thought back to everything Kenny had told him just a few days ago, when he had give him his space helmet.

He would step back and let Tweek take the reins in confessing, but he had no idea if it would all work out in the end, or if it would change everything about the two of them-for better or for worse.

The first hour of Trick-or-Treating in Token’s neighborhood went smoothly enough. All the houses were decked out in decorations that were more fun and silly than scary and Token’s neighborhood also had very generous neighbors who let them take as much as they wanted. Craig was delighted to get his hands on his favorite candies (Like Three Musketeer Bars and Kit Kats) but was disappointed when some skittles were plopped into his bucket at one of their stops.

“What’s wrong with skittles?” Clyde asked, tearing into a packet of them himself as they left the house that had given them the offending skittles. It was the last one in Token’s neighborhood and they were on their way to Tweek’s neighborhood, which was within walking distance. 

“They’re gross.” Craig insisted, making a face. 

“Can I have them then?” Clyde asked, reaching his hand into Craig’s bucket.

“No!” Craig swatted Clyde’s hand, making him yelp and recoil. Clyde’s hands, while covered with gloves, had become rather filthy with melted chocolate over the course of the evening. “I-I’ll figure out what to do with them later!”

“Spoilsport…” Clyde mumbled, walking ahead of them with his mother while Tweek and Craig laughed at his dramatic reaction.

“You been okay so far?” Craig asked Tweek as they made their way up to the next house, which was decked up to look like a ghost town. Tweek had let go of his mother’s hand a while back so he could carry his candy bag easier, but he was still clinging onto Craig’s over an hour later (not that Craig was complaining.) Clyde and Token were a few feet ahead of them, arguing over which Power Ranger was the best. Their mothers were lagging behind, also chatting among themselves, probably about their children’s sugar intake and how to limit their candy over the next few days, Craig supposed.

“Y-yeah.” Tweek nodded. “Nothing’s been too scary so far and I’ve liked all the candy-except for the Milky Way Bars.”

“What’s wrong with Milky Way Bars?” Craig asked, somewhat horrified. They were among his favorites.

“The caramel gets stuck in my teeth and it feels really icky!” Tweek shuddered so hard that Craig could feel it, since their hands were still clasped in one another’s. “I can’t stand em because of that!”

“Do you mind skittles at all?” Craig asked, “Cause I hate them and wouldn’t mind having the extra Milky Ways.”

“I’ll take over Milky Ways anyday, sure!” Tweek grinned, holding out his bag so that Craig could take what he wanted first. But just as Craig reached his hand into it, a loud distressed shriek rang through the night air. 

“W-what was that?” Tweek asked.

“I dunno.” Craig said, withdrawing his hand and looking around for the source of the noise. Clyde and Token had heard to and like Craig, they also seemed perplexed at just where the noise had come from.

“Help! Somebody, anybody, please!”

Craig turned in the direction where he heard the frantic yelling and was alarmed to see Kenny and Butters running towards them, both decked out in costumes and red faced from their frantic running.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Token asked when Kenny leaned over to catch his breath. He was wearing a mummy costume, the bandages he had wrapped all over himself coming undone, revealing the stained white T-shirt and jeans he was wearing under them. 

“It’s Kyle!” Butters burst out, looking rather overheated in the pink bunny suit he was decked in. “He’s in huge trouble!”

“Why did you come running for us if he needs help back there?” Clyde asked, his tone perplexed. Token, who had still been talking to Clyde until Kenny and Butters had run up, looked equally as confused.

“Stan’s trying to ward em off, but he’s getting his ass kicked hard.” Kenny said, finally getting his breath back. “So, he told us to run and find someone our age or older for help or to tell an adult.”

“What’s even going on?” Tweek asked, looking back and forth between Kenny and Butter’s distressed expressions in bewilderment, “You’re not telling us all the details and it’s confusing me!”

“Well, come and help and you’ll see!” Kenny insisted, motioning for them to follow him. Clyde and Token shared a look before following after them, leaving Craig and Tweek alone.

“Do you suppose this is all a big joke or something?” Tweek asked Craig, his little hand flexing in Craig’s.

“Nah, Kenny wouldn’t joke like this….I hope.” Craig gulped. “We’d better go see what’s up, just to be safe.”

So still hand in hand, they ran in the direction their friends had followed Kenny and Butters after, disregarding the fact that Mrs. Donovan and Mrs. Tweak were still in charge and that they would get in serious trouble if they deserted them.  
Like they were doing now.

What was going on became clear when they turned a corner. Stan was trying to hold off some massive looking third graders while Kyle sat on the ground, covered in dirt and scrapes and crying into his hands. He was also covered in a heavy layer of gray makeup on his face and arms, but it was all smudged, giving leeway to the pale freckled skin beneath. His plastic pumpkin shaped bucket had fallen to the sidewalk and cracked into three pieces, with crushed pieces of candy surrounding him and the bucket’s remains. 

“I’m gonna say it again…” Craig heard Stan huff, his hands balled into fists. “Just leave him alone! He did nothing to you guys, so why are you acting like this and treating him like he committed some sort of fashion crime?” 

“Awww, is little Jack trying to protect his Sally?” one of the third graders, a huge boy wearing an elaborate zombie costume taunted. It was those words that made Craig realize just what Stan and Kyle were dressed as: Stan was decked out in a Jack Skellington costume from The Nightmare Before Christmas, while Kyle was dressed as Sally to match him, complete with a patched dress like the one Sally wore in the movie. Kyle didn’t even need a red hair wig for him costume-his natural hair color was almost the perfect shade, just a bit too short to pull it off totally accurate. Craig was sure Kyle had looked great until these boys came along and ruined his makeup and pushed him to the ground to make him cry and feel ashamed for what he had chosen to wear for Halloween. 

“Leave him alone!” Stan screamed again, trying to hit the older boy, who was twice his size in height and bulk. “He wanted to wear that dress so we could match, there’s nothing wrong with that!”

“Oh, there’s plenty wrong with that!” another older boy spoke up, this one in a Captain Picard costume. “Boys shouldn’t dress like girls, ever! Only girls can wear dresses you freaks!”

“Why can't he?” Kenny asked them, coming over and staring them down as Stan struggled, Butters hanging back behind him, looking too nervous to try and put in his own two cents. Craig decided that he wouldn’t want to do so either if he was in a pink bunny suit. That was just asking for it. 

“Because if you’re a boy who wears dresses, that means you’re gay,” the older boy in the zombie outfit drawled. “And gay boys are sissy and weak and deserve to get their asses kicked!”

“I-I’m not weak!” Kyle choked out, still sobbing into his hands, his usual anger and determination that he acted on when he was faced with anything unfair crushed into pieces, like the candy he had collected that was now scattered on the sidewalk. 

“You sure are acting like you are with all your whimpering and crying for your Mommy,” a third boy, this one in a Shaggy costume from Scooby Doo drawled. “So you’re just proving your point over here that you’re just a little sissy who needs to go home and burn that dress before you corrupt anyone else into thinking that it’s okay for little boys to wear shit like that.” 

“Kyle’s no sissy, he’s got way more guts than you arses!” Stan protested, still trying to hit at least one of the boys in the group with no avail. They all kept dodging his punches and throws, laughing and sneering, their laughter getting louder as Kenny tried to jump in and help out Stan with little success. Their words were so cruel and harsh that it made Craig tense up as he watched the sight unfold, thankful that they were far away enough to have the older boys not see them watching the entire scene unfold.

“We gotta do something!” Clyde whispered frantically. “Kenny brought us over here for a reason, so we can’t just stand there and let it happen!”

“What could we even do though?” Token asked. “These boys are all huge and really strong! We would end up like Kyle in ten seconds flat!” 

“We could tell the police maybe?” Clyde suggested, gripping the handle of his bucket for comfort.

“They wouldn’t listen, police never do.” Craig said, still watching Kenny and Stan trying to defend Kyle. Butters was still hanging back, looking like he wanted to do something about the situation but knowing he would get grounded if he acted on it. 

“Maybe I could run back and tell my Mommy what’s going on?” Clyde asked.

“No, she and Mrs. Tweak would just scold us for running off before anything else and these guys would end up getting into even more trouble.” Token insisted, looking between Clyde and the fighting going on with increasing panic.

“Then what should we do then?” Craig snapped. “They’re just going to get more and more hurt if he stand here like logs doing nothing but bickering among ourselves!”

“I could do something.”

Clyde, Token, and Craig all turned to stare at Tweek, who had been quiet until this point, just looking at all the fighting while holding Craig’s hand. 

“Tweek, no offense, but you’re the tiniest of all of us.” Token sighed. “Those older boys would have a field day if you happened to come into their sight.”

“Y-yeah, I understand that, but…” Tweek trailed off, putting down his bag of Halloween treats and a stowaway stuffed bunny. “I-I can fight, I-I can distract them, and then the others can g-get away and find people to deal with them properly….”

“I don’t doubt your fighting skills, considering you almost broke Cartman’s nose that one time.” Craig put in, “But the problem is that you’re wearing something that could also be labeled as dress-like. And those older boys really won’t like that.” 

“I know, I know!” Tweek huffed, his little mouth turning into a pout. “B-But I personally don’t see anything wrong with that. They should learn that being the one in the dress doesn’t make you the damsel in distress. N-not that I’m dressed as a girl or anything like Kyle is though!” 

“I’m pretty sure Kyle said something similar before they threw him to the ground.” Clyde piped up. 

“Look, just let me try, okay?” Tweek turned to look at all three of them, his huge green eyes flashing with determination. “I-it’s worth a shot, right?” 

Clyde and Token turned to look at each other, and then nodded reluctantly, knowing that nothing they would do would change Tweek’s mind. Tweek turned to Craig after seeing their approval, looking for a sign in his facial expressions to help him see how Craig felt about him going off and taking these massive third graders on. 

“Just be careful.” Craig murmured. “We’ll be right behind you if you need us.” 

Tweek gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand once before letting it go to walk over to the boys. Stan and Kenny were still trying to hold them off with little success, being forced to dodge the boy’s massive punches and throws, while Kyle was still on the ground sniffling a little, trying to pick up the candy that littered the sidewalk with Butter’s help. The boy’s voices were louder, their tones more aggressive, and it sent a jolt of anxiety down Craig’s spine as everything that could go wrong flashed through his head. So as a precaution, he picked up Tweek’s trick or treating bag and held it tight as a precaution, just in case something really did backfire in their quickly conceived plans. 

“Aye!” Tweek called out, his hands on his hips, not caring that his glittery cardboard star was slipping a little down his back. The three older boys jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to face him.

“What do you want, ya blonde pipsqueak?” the zombie clad boy sneered, his lips curling into a smirk as he took in Tweek’s white gown and pink sash and glittery face.

“Go pick on someone your own size, creeps!” Tweek snapped, his hands now curling into fists. “I don’t see why you think picking on some five year old who likes to wear a dress is more important than the other things you could be doing!”

“You’re right, there could be more important things we could be doing…” the boy dressed as Shaggy drawled. He and his two friends rounded on Tweek and looked down at his tiny, trembling frame. “Like demonstrating how you need to learn how to stay out of other people’s fucking business, you little fag!” 

“W-wait! Don’t! I don’t even know what a fag is-” Tweek stammered, but it was too late. The boy dressed as Picard swooped in and picked him up by his arm, dangling Tweek more than a foot off the ground. Tweek shrieked and flailed his legs while the boys howled with laughter.

“Guess you’re not quite as strong as you think you are, ya little pipsqueak!” Zombie boy cackled. “How about we teach you a little lesson similar to the one we gave the ginger sissy!”

“Let me go!” Tweek screamed, still trying to kick their faces. “Why do you even feel the need to make people’s lives this miserable?” 

“Because we can,” The boy dressed as Shaggy stated, his phrase turning Craig’s anxiety into boiling, lava hot fury. He was so enraged that he charged at the boys at lightning speed, ignoring Clyde and Token’s yells of surprise and warning. He didn’t care what he was doing was dangerous; Tweek was in trouble and after he had rescued Craig from multiple bad events in his life over the years, now it was Craig’s turn to do the same for him.

When Craig reached the older boys, they reacted too slowly to his sudden arrival to do anything to him before he headbutted the Picard boy with his plastic gumball machine top of a helmet. It knocked the wind out of the older boy and he lost his grip on Tweek, causing him to crash to the ground, trembling. Luckily, he had landed on his feet in the grass of a yard on one side of the sidewalk. 

“You little pieces of shit!” the Picard boy howled, lunging at both of them. But Tweek, despite being weakened from his fall, grabbed Craig’s hand and dragged him away from the three boys while Token, Clyde, and Stan’s group of friends looked on in shock at the turn of events. The older boys once again rounded on them and this time, Craig wasn’t sure what to do. Luckily, Tweek seemed to know and once again, he dragged Craig away and they hid themselves behind a clump of bushes in the front yard of a house 10 feet away from where they started. 

“What are we gonna do now? They’ll cream us!” Craig hissed at Tweek.

“We’ll go hide in the woods in the path behind this house that I found last summer." Tweek whispered, his voice barely audible over the insults and loud noises of fury that the older boys were making towards them. "They won't find us there." 

“But the mom’s and the others, won’t they-”

“Just trust me on this, okay?” Tweek hissed at him. Craig wasn’t so keen to do so after what just happened mere seconds ago when he tried to stand up for the others, but they had no other choice if they wanted to come out of this situation alive. 

“Okay, we’ll do that, but how far do we have to go?”

“We’ll enter the woods through there,” Tweek pointed to another clump of bushes nearby. These ones opened up into a winding little forest trail. He winced as they heard the footsteps of the older boys approach their hiding place and gripped Craig’s hand tighter.

“Ready?” Craig asked. “Now, let’s-”

Before Craig could finish his sentence, Tweek ran in the direction of the trail, Craig being dragged after him with his hand still connected to Tweek’s. Without looking back at the furious older boys that they knew were following them, they vanished into the darkness that blanketed the forest.


End file.
